Charcoal Silk and Emerald Satin
by doriansportrait
Summary: It's been 10 years since the final battle, and her friends have all moved on. She seems to be the only one still angry and full of sadness. Hermione is offered an interesting task: help take out the remaining dark forces. The problem?:her partner, one Dra
1. Heading for the door

_**Charcoal Silk and Emerald Satin**_

(A.N.-I suppose a summary/explanation is in order. .;)

_It is ten years after the final confrontation and fall of Voldemort. Ron and Harry have gone on with their lives, gotten married and tried, like the rest of the world, to get back on their feet, even though Death Eaters and Voldemort's followers still wreak havoc in England. However, one witch is still haunted. Still lonely. Still full of despair. _

_So what happens when this witch, now a healer with some ties to the ministry is suddenly offered a proposition; help catch almost all Death Eaters still in business and bring them in. Oh there is a slight catch. The person who she is to work with is not all that trustworthy...and Hermione doesn't even know how embroiled she is... _

_(Oh, I have no attachments to JK Rowling or any of her characters. This is my pure fantasy...so don't sue. Please.)_

1.

What awoke her was the ringing of the doorbell, a rare event in of itself. Hermione jolted awake from the plush couch in her apartment, startled at the obnoxious buzz that it created, and quickly went to answer the door, fastening her short satin dressing robe as she walked toward the foyer. Checking her wand in the ridiculously small pocket of the lavender robe, she readied a hex in her mind.

For safety's sake.

Just in case...

London after the fall of the Dark Lord was no safer than during his reign, and Diagon Alley was not the safe haven it once was during her years at Hogwarts. It had been a good ten years since she had graduated, ten years since that fateful night, when Voldemort and Harry had battled for the last time, at the site where it all started. The obliterated former home of James and Lily Potter...

They had fought long and they had fought dirty. But it was obvious that the Dark Lord had the upper hand. Hermione remembered watching in despair, as Voldemort had screamed (not yelled...screamed in that horrible voice...) "Crucio Maximus!", while she cradled Ronald Weasly's head in her lap, and held Neville Longbottem's hand tightly in her right hand. Voldemort had uttered a curse, a curse she only knew from her studies of demons in medieval England in her extra History class with Professor Binns.

It was a variant of the Crucio curse, one that would rip one's soul out of their body, and ravage it, as well as slowly spreading molten-like venom throughout the physical body.

Hermione felt an abrupt wetness on her cheeks and realized she had started to cry a little when all the emotions of that time had come rushing back. She quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

"Come on. Let's...calm down. Answer the door like a civilized person..."

Her hand gripping the long length of wood in her pocket, she looked through the peephole and gave a short cry of irritation as she realized that the person who was at her door was too tall, and all she could see was a chest....a rather large chest, she realized, wearing a dark shade of charcoal, nice silk, rather tight fitted which she assumed was to show off a nice physique. Hermione broke her own thoughts in irritation as her rather girlish ("hormonal" she privately referred to it...) side appraised the clothing with favor. After all even Mad-Eye had a point when he had told her, "Lass, don't look at a man for what he appears. Even the slimiest snakes can tempt you with their lovely patterned skin...look at Eve and her damned apple..."

Of course then he had gone on into a rather long winded speech about female follies, with a peppering of "Constant Vigilance!" throughout. Then Tonks had knocked over a vase, which seemed to have the same effect as a nuclear bomb on Moody's nerves...

Hermione raced through a dozen options through her mind. It could be someone like Neville with the latest ministry news for her...or even Ron come to visit and discuss a marital issue he was having with Lavender ...

"Or Harry..." she whispered out loud. Had he come back from his trip to Mexico? Doubtful. Last she had heard from him and his fiancée ("beforehand my best friend..." Hermione though fondly) was an owl post letter and photo, where he was standing in front of some Aztec pyramid, gently smiling while Ginny was waving madly in the enchanted photograph. No, their whirlwind tour of the world was not likely to end anytime soon, at least for a month.

"And they deserve it..." she thought. It had taken them 9 years to find their own bliss and happiness after the final battle. They were engaged, and their wedding set for the following July in one month, on Harry's birthday.

Before that had come Ron. She remembered him sheepishly asking her to go shopping with him.

"Shopping Ron? For heaven's sake _why_? You loath shopping with me, you say I'm too girlish. Which I may add, is a perfectly illogical form of reasoning. I _am_ a female, so I would rather you didn't-"

He had cut her off with a hand on her mouth, an action he did rarely, so Hermione had known it was something more.

"Shut up you! You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said in a rapid voice "It's just that your closer to Lavender's ring size, and well...you know I'm not good at those bloody romantic gestures..."

"Ron..."

"No, I-I- I'll find another way..."

"Ron," she had said with a soft smile. "If you want to propose to Lavender, all you had to do was ask..."

That wedding had been bittersweet. She knew that the two were suited for each other, and had enjoyed her role at the wedding, even if it was as a bridesmaid, wearing (what else) a lavender shaded gown with Parvati Patel. She had started to actually enjoy herself, having attended the traditional bacholerette party the night before, and drinking her first taste of champagne at the reception.

But when the dancing started, she suddenly felt out of place as the champagne started to affect her non-drinker's brain. Almost every one was swaying to the gentle music, they and their partners just enjoying the heady romance of the night in the rose garden where the reception was being held.

With a slight pang in her heart, Hermione sat at her (empty) table with her alcohol and remembered her first dance with a boy. Actually, she had amended herself; Victor was more of a man at 17, though not quite mature. He had been so kind to her...a girl still in the throes of puberty, so unsure of herself, her hair, and her clothes. And yet, he had not kissed her. Oh, he had on her hand and cheek many times, in a very charming manner, but never with the feeling that was genuine passion, just a sort of adoration. And of course, she had not been with a member of the male race since her sixth year, when she had broken all ties with Krum when it was discovered that he had been using her to get information to Karkaroff. It was then, that she realized that she had never been close to any man at all since the unstable times of her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. There was simply no time, or option of having a relationship. Where most girls in her dormitory (Luna and Ginny included...) had been bragging with giggles about their intimacy with their boyfriends (it was rumored that Parvati had "gone all the way" in seventh year), she was 23, and had never even been kissed. Ever.

She was the only one of all her friends, who had thrown herself into her work as a Government Appointed Healer, and a sort of information gatherer for the ministry. She was the only one who would ever remember that fateful night, and the unhappiness that had still resulted.

Hermione had held up her champagne flute, looked through the fizzy amber liquid at the swaying couples, and in a tipsy slur thought out loud quietly...."How can they celebrate, when there is so much sorrow to share"...

She sighed and realized that she really had no option in ignoring the door...her curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Screw the Death eaters," she hissed quietly to herself. "I haven't enjoyed myself in years because of them...I'm ready for anything at this point."

She flung open the door with a large clatter, her long pale legs in a defensive stance, her wand raised in her hand, startling the person who had rudely awoken her at 6 AM on a Sunday morning into raising one perfectly arched white eyebrow. She withheld a gasp of astonishment and settled for a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Why Granger. How nice to see you. Do stop posing like a bloody Amazon, will you? I've been ringing you damn bell for a good twenty minutes." a baritone voice smoothly drawled, out of the lips of the last person she had ever wanted to see again.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her small apartment door, with the familiar smirk of his youth fixed firmly on his face.

"This is _not _my day..." she groaned inwardly.

A.N. - So what do you think? I know it's rather short, and it really serves as a beginning explanation to Hermione's world after the battle, a sort of 'setting the scene'. I still haven't gotten to the interaction between her and Draco, or even the actual plot for that matter, so don't get too hasty with the story.....please review! Please!!!!


	2. Irritating tea

**_Charcoal Silk and Emerald Satin_**

2.

Hermione slowly lowered her wand, and tried to bring her usually astute thought process into order. In front of her, stood the one man she had not wanted to speak to or look upon for the rest of her life. Ever. Harry had made his peace with Draco Malfoy years ago on that fateful night with Voldemort. And so had Ron, though rather grudgingly.

"Hermione...look, I genuinely hated him, and even I can be a little civil._ Dumbledore_ trusts him! For god sakes, 'mione, he rather saved our lives don't you think? Can't you be a little polite at our wedding at the very least?"

"Ron," she had said turning on him with a cool fury inside her. "I work for the ministry. There is so much intelligence on that git it would make your head turn. Besides, the only reason he helped is because it was obvious Lucious wasn't going to make it, and that ninny of a mother of his (if you can call her that) was not going to be able to hold on to their manor and wealth. Voldemort would have turned on them. He did it to save his arse. Pure and simple. And you know Dumbledore, sweet as he is, is sometimes a rather lackluster judge of character..." She had hissed.

After getting over the initial shock of hearing his sweet "'mione" saying "arse", Ron had thrown his hands up in the air and pronounced her hopeless.

"Look. I will only come to your wedding if I do not have lay eyes on that serpent. If you can work that out, I will happily attend. No sulking. I promise."

And Ron had obliged. That was three years ago, when Ron and Lavender had had her sit all the way across the three acre garden at the reception, so she would have no chance of running into him. She had not seen that pale face, the permanent smirk, or the arched eyebrow since she was 18 years old. And here he was, all glorious 6 foot 5, 208 pounds of him. He leaned into the door frame, and Hermione took an involuntary step back.

"Well Granger. You certainly look the worse for wear. Inviting me in?" he said as though she was his neighbor, and he was only over for some cocktails and a brunch, and had just seen each other the night before. At 6 o'clock in the morning no less...

The little jab at her attire had snapped her out of her funk, and she raised her wand again.

"What are you doing her Malfoy?" she nearly snarled. She resisted the urge to raise her hands up to her messy "French twist" and to check to make sure her short robe was closed.

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Granger, I can assure I mean you no harm. Really. Look, don't hex me into oblivion," He reached into the inner pocket of his robes, and snorted when Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "Oh, do stop it. Look, it's from Dumbledore himself..."

Tentatively, she reached over and quickly snapped up the small bit of parchment that Draco had held in his hands. Her wand still raised at the ready, she quickly scanned the letter.

_The Ministry of Magic_

_London_

May 18th

To:

Miss. Hermione Granger

18 Rose Stem Way

Apt. 678

3rd Floor

In the family room

Sleeping on the green couch

Diagon Alley, London

Dear Miss. Granger,

I hope this letter finds you well at home, and in the loveliest of accommodations. I must however, regret that I may be interrupting the peace and quiet which you are quite used to with the news I must relay to you.

In the light of the recent developments your friends have had in their personal lives, I have decided you are the best person who may help in the task I have set out. I have entrusted one Mr. Draco Malfoy (Whom I am sure you recall from your years as a student) with this note, and the detailed information which I wish to pass on to you. Since a letter is always open to eyes it was not intended for, I will not give many details, and hope Mr. Malfoy will fulfill his task.

Know this; it is imperative that you accept this task, and help with its execution. In no way do I promise that it will be easy, but for it to succeed would mean an easing of peace within the magic world.

So, I bid adieu to you, and hope that you will be (what I have assured my colleagues) the one for the job.

Sincerely and with much anticipation,

_Albus Dumbledore_

Minister of Magic

Order of Merlin

And the Phoenix.

P.S. I hope to see you at the future marriage of Virginia Weasly and Harry Potter in July. I received the invitation three weeks ago.

Hermione looked up incredulously at Draco as he stood leaning into her door frame with his arms folded across his chest.

"What is he talking about?" she said in what she had hoped would be a strong commanding voice, her Healing Trainer's voice, but which betrayed a nervous waver.

"Well now, I could tell you right here couldn't I? However, I have to say it _is_ rather sensitive information. And rather time consuming. So you see, I would rather impart the information in a more comfortable setting. Sitting perhaps. Of course, lying down would be the most comfortable position, but I doubt you-"

"For God's sake, get inside." She hissed, waving her wand hand at the family room where she had been asleep only a few minutes ago. Draco managed to look suave as he swished his robes à la masseur Snape and swept into the room and sitting on her favorite part of the green upholstered couch.

She struggled to digest what was going on so early in the morning. She had fallen asleep the night before on the couch listening to her favorite music after a hard day at the ministry, Vivaldi, and awoken to a man she had hoped to keep a stranger her whole life, with a cryptic letter from her most trusted confidante, and...and...since when had Draco become so..._.snarky_?

Sarcastic, yes.

Irritating, yes.

Insulting, yes.

But rarely had she experienced all combined into a full force of talkative annoyance. So it took all she had to muster up the courtesy to ask "Would you like something to drink?"

It came out rather sarcastic, but she didn't care.

"Yes. Some butter beer or gin would be nice at the moment. Though it seems you're a bit of a teetotaler yourself," he said picking up her china cup off the floor near his feet. She furiously grabbed it and stalked into the kitchen where she started banging pots and pans together and washed it in the sink. She poured him a nice cup, and herself one, and fairly shoved it into his face as she came back into her tiny family room.

"Explain. Now. Or get out. "she said in a rather calm manner.

"Are you sure? I do so want to enjoy this cuppa that you served me with your loving hands-"

"Now Malfoy. You have ten minutes." She said. Satisfied she had finally gained the upper hand in the conversation; she took a delicate sip from her cup, and sat down on an ottoman that was across the room from where he sat on the couch and demurely crossed her legs.

Draco seemed to check the cheeky comment that was about to come out of his mouth, and reconsider what he was about to say.

"Want me to sum it up in one sentence?"

"A word would be fine. Whatever Malfoy, just stop wasting my time please."

He lifted the cup, and spent an infuriating ten seconds loudly slurping her Earl Grey tea. He put down he cup, and said in an oddly serious tone:

"Granger, if you accept what I am about to say, you could help bring in the biggest criminals in Wizarding England history."

AN- Well, that's interesting, I wrote the whole second chapter, and am still filling it with flashbacks. Don't worry, eventually I'll get to the plot, and the wacko relationship that is Draco & Hermione. Soon. Hopefully....


	3. the plot thickens

3.

Hermione stared at Draco incredulously, her cup half raised to her mouth.

"What?" she questioned, sounding as though someone had told her Snape was a notorious cross dresser...of course their was the time with Boggart and Neville third year...

"You heard me Granger. Don't make me question your intelligence by having to repeat myself." Draco said, abruptly sounding more serious, and more like the pompous Draco Malfoy of Slytherin. Hermione actually felt some relief at the fact that she was dealing with a more recognizable version of Malfoy.

"And you know what I meant. Please clarify yourself before I hex you so your tongue shrivels up."

Draco gave her a searching look. "You would do it too, wouldn't you..." he muttered.

"I teach some of the best Medi-Wizards and Healers this ministry has to offer. If I can cure it, I sure as hell know how to inflect it." She snapped back.

"Well, all that aside, this could take some time to explain."

"I'm all ears."she said returning his laconic smirk

"Well, I'm sure you know of the fact that there is a large coterie of former Death Eaters still insisting on wreaking havoc on this fair country."

"Yes, I know, Servants of the Serpent, who doesn't?"

"Granger, you ruin my momentum in speaking when you interrupt." He said in a bored tone. She lifted her cup with a scowl, and took another angry sip.

"Well, they seem to have no real goal without their Dark Lord Voldemort. Their current leader is a two pence former Death Eater who used to have great prestige among his brethren. No one knows exactly who he is of course..." he trailed off, seemingly fascinated at the copy of Munch's _Scream_ hanging on the wall. After a second, he snapped back. "Yes, well without direction, they mostly create senseless acts of violence against Muggles that are never really all that effective. But of course their attacks against their fellow wizards are worse, and with more dire consequences. You of course recall the disastrous rigging of all the Ministry Admission Call Booths last year?"

Hermione nodded her head. Who could forget? Every single booth that ministry officials called in through was rigged as a portkey to some vast unknown desert. She herself had almost reported for work and gotten caught had it not been for Mr. Weasly's cry of warning before she dialed the ministry number. It had taken a good month to find out the portkeys' destination, and by then, for the wizards and witches who had been caught without their wands or those that didn't know how to apparate, it was much too late. They hadn't survived, and the assailants were never caught. The dark mark had been hovering over the ministry building for hours scaring most of the public witless.

"The Servant's work of course...but recently intelligence has arisen that they are planning a much larger scale attack, one that would wipe out most key members of the ministry, as well as those who caused..." here he trailed off and looked guiltily at Hermione.

"What? Malfoy stop it. Tell me."

He seemed to gather his will, and with one gasp of breath said

"All those who caused the fall of Voldemort."

A.N.- thank you all my reviewers....it really did encourage me a little to write more. So tell me if you see any problems (constructive criticism only please...please....) and here comes the next chapter....


	4. acceptance or denial?

4.

There was a silence as Hermione sat and thought. It was funny, if she was still 18, still someone who thought she was a know-it-all, she would have started babbling and worrying. Who could she save, what would be needed? Instead, at 28, only ten years later, she was calm and collected.

She started to list all those she knew in danger, all those who had physically and mentally dared to confront the Dark Lord and live to tell about it.

"Harry Potter, Ronald Weasly, Fred and George Weasly, Ginny Weasly, good grief all the Weasly's. Neville Longbottem, Cho Chang, Ernie Macmillan, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patel, Luna Lovegood, the McCreevy brothers. Seamus Finnigan, Lee, Angelina, Hagrid, McGonnigal, Snape, Flitwick, Sinestra, even Trelawny...."

"You're forgetting some important people." Said Draco quietly.

"Who? She asked jolted out of her thoughts by Draco's sharp comment.

"Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger." He whispered softly. Hermione sat perfectly still for about three minutes as she realized how vast the list was, and the fact that she and Draco were targets as well.

"But that's a good thirty or so people. How could they gather them all together?" she wondered out loud.

"Simple. Someone else did it for them. Our friend Harry wasn't really thinking too much about death threats when he and his fiancée drew up a guest list and date for their wedding. Especially when they had it announced in the Daily Prophet." He said a little cynically.

"So what do you propose?" she asked curiously

"Well Dumbledore's gotten wind of it of course, hard to hide anything from that man." Hermione nodded recalling some of the reconnaissance she had done on the side for Dumbledore in the last few years.

"But the Servants are too stupid to realize their own intelligence leak. So, what Dumbledore and I are proposing is a sting. Every single member of the Servants of the Serpent will be present at that wedding in hiding. We'll be the ones to gather more intelligence, and hopefully sabotage their plan, and set up a sting operation that will get rid of each and every member. Granger, frankly I can't see why you won't jump at the chance. You could be someone who helps bring in the biggest criminals ever. So...are you game?" he said, speaking the last few sentences in a fevered rush.

"I..." Hermione tried to think one step ahead. This was Draco. She did not trust him one iota, and to have to work with him frightened her a little. She had gathered information before, but this was.... different. It seemed a little too good to be true. To rid England of the Serpents would make everyone breath so much easier...

"Come on Hermione" she thought. "It's a chance of a life time. S what if an absolute git is who you'll be working, you've dealt with worse. And you could make more of a difference than training medi wizards and healers...."

She looked Draco straight in the eye

"I'm game"

A.N. – that was very rushed, and I hope the quality didn't suffer. Tell me what you think, and if I explained the plot well enough....


	5. Getting down to business

5.

I hoped the quality didn't suffer? I didn't realize all the spelling mistakes and atrocious punctuation from the last chapter.....;......I'll stop fighting it. Just realize that it is beyond me to start fixing all my grammar mistakes now...

Well here it is (school took up a lot of my time...) the next chapter...

"Good. I'll be off then." Draco said more to himself than anything. He rose out of the chair, and swept his charcoal cloak towards his body, and seemed to be ready to apparate right out of her living room.

"Wait, you honestly- What?" Hermione sputtered. This was bordering on ridiculous. When would he learn to coherently explain himself at once?

"Darling. Granger. I have work. I've done my first duty here. I'm off. Understand?" He said slowly as though speaking to a drunk.

She whipped out her wand, furiously whispering the next words she spoke in a tone she took with medi wizards who had stepped into her "danger" territory. Draco unfortunately for him, had crossed into that zone with a rather large leap and pirouette...

"No. Shlip!-"she made a cutting motion on her throat and indicated that she wanted silence rather than the quick retort coming from Draco. "Now. You will sit here. In _my _chair."

Draco once again made to retort, but something in her face made him check his mouth, and sit down with a grim smirk.

"You will apparate from my apartment. _I _however will accompany you to Dumbledore's office, and you needn't look surprised, I know that's where you were going. To report. I know how it works, I'm not stupid."

"I can tell you Granger, that thought never _once_ graced my mind. You are not stupid. Incredibly gullible, emotional, and power driven yes. But not stupid." Draco drawled out, lifting his legs over the arms of the couch to lie down. "Now, am I allowed to get off this green monstrosity? I suppose I'll have to wait for you though."

"Huh?" she blurted out intelligently.

"A lavender short robe will not look any more professional than walking in nude, though that would be sight to behold" He said though closed eyes, looking as though he would fall asleep right then and there she realized. And she realized with dismay that he was right about her appearance.

"Don't move." She said in despair as she walked backward towards her rooms.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He said nonchalantly.

Draco smiled as he heard the sink running and Hermione began muttering about "egotistical gits" and "ignoramus's"

She came out pulling on her own bottle green robes (a gift from Harry last holidays) over her muggle office wear; a crisp form fitting white blouse with a tan tweed short waist coat, and a matching tweed knee length skirt and black high heel pumps. Her silky ginger brown shoulder length hair was pulled back by a small thin headband. Two small dangling pearl earrings and a short pearl necklace completed her professional look. She looked so fresh; it was hard to believe she had been rudely awakened in a disheveled state only an hour ago.

"I say Granger, you do clean up well." Draco drawled through closed eyes.

"Get up. Let's go." She replied curtly, patting her hair, hoping the Frizz-ease lotion would stay put. She pulled out her wand, and brandishing it like a club, motioned for Draco to get off the couch. She realized that now that he had gotten his chore of telling her the mission out of the way, he had reverted back to his annoying self, and she was powerless to change that. She could, however, take charge of the situation. She was not willing to let a former head death-eater rule the roost.

"Alright. Let's go."He said swinging his legs off the couch, and striding over to stand next to her.

With a popping sound, they both left her humble apartment...

... to arrive in a beautiful office, with a high domed ceiling. The furniture was all oak and cherry wood, and when she heard a feeble squawk, Hermione turned to see a baby Fawkes in his transitional state, sitting in his golden cage. He was no bigger than a small chick, his red feather spilled all around him and fluffy red down starting to grow out of his skin rapidly. She gave the bird a smile, and went up to the cage to tickle him under the chin. He chirruped in pleasure, and nipped her finger playfully. Suddenly he seemed to sniff the air, and gave a high pitched shriek and started squawking angrily over her shoulder.

"Bloody bird. Shut up!" Draco hissed at the angry phoenix.

"Oh don't stop him," she said with a smirk. Fawkes became even louder as Draco stepped toward the two of them, looking as though he would do something violent. "At least he can sniff out the evil and egotism, even if others can't." she said quietly, but with a measure of anger. She stood up from her bent position, pulling the robes together. They looked at each other, Hermione quiet, looking nonchalant, as Draco seemed ready to burst with anger, his usually pale face starting to color pink.

At that precise moment, the tension broke as the door opened, and Hermione saw Harry and Ginny walk in, and behind strode in Dumbledore.

"'Mione! What are you doing here?!" Ginny Weasly cried, striding over to Hermione to offer her a hug. They squeezed each other tightly. As Ginny finally released her, she was startled as Ginny immediately started talking.

"Hermione. Listen. You are most _definitely_ my maid of honor. No questions. I'll send the seamstress to your house, and she'll have your dress ready in no time. No buts." Ginny said with a sparkling smile. Her bubbling was infectious, and Hermione found herself smiling back.

"Gin, you _know _after Ron and Lavender's, I don't really feel like being the center of attention..."

"God 'Mione, that was yearsago. Come on...."

"Oh.... All right. I'll severely blame you if this goes wrong though!" she said laughing in a way she hadn't in many years. She didn't know why. It was as though a curtain had been lifted. It immediately fell back however, as Ginny spotted Draco.

"Oh! Draco! I didn't see you..." she went over and kissed him on the cheek, and Hermione saw his cheeks turn a distinct shade of pink. "Has Hermione threatened to cut off your manhood yet?" Ginny said in an amused tone.

Hermione opened her mouth to utter a retort, and immediately felt her hand picked up. She looked up startled as Harry kissed her hand.

"That was for being civil enough to not hex him into oblivion. I know it's hard for you." He said softly to her.

Hermione stepped on her toes to ruffle the hair that always looked ruffled and kiss him on the cheek and stared appreciatively at one of her best friends. He was wearing his Seeker's uniform for the Chudley Cannons, and the orange robes clashed wildly with the red game armor that showed Harry as the athletic number one seeker in England. Ginny was wearing wild purple robes with a green trim, which was one of her best of the _Weasly's Wizarding Couture _store collection. Harry turned towards Draco, and mockingly pulled his fiancee away.

"Come now. I'm to marry the little minx, don't seduce her before the wedding date..." he said punching Draco on the arm. Draco grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"I do so hate to interrupt the meeting of good friends," said a kindly voice. "But there are, unfortunately for Virginia and Harry, some more serious matters to discuss." Said Dumbledore, now Minister Dumbeldore as he sat in the high backed chair behind his enormous desk.

They all fell quiet, and then there was a silent scramble for the nearest chairs. As Hermione settled primly into the cushioned seat, she felt a little invigorated. Participating in a mission like this often raised her adrenaline, and this was no different; sometimes she wished she _had _become an aurorer like Neville. She felt unpleasant again, when she glanced over to her side and saw Draco settle into the seat closest to her in the voluminous room. The room was magicked of course. Appearing like any other office from the outside, it was as large as a cathedral inside. Models of boats, telescopes, and other wizarding equipment were suspended from the ceiling. She could swear she saw something fly over head, but it seemed like a distant blot in the high ceiling...

"Good. You all realize how serious this situation is. Harry, Virginia, I would usually implore you to put off the say of your wedding, but obviously I have not. The reason being it provides a rather good setting for our operation. Now, Ginny and Harry, your current job is to make this wedding as public as possible. Spare no expenses, the ministry will pay for all the needs."

Hermione saw Ginny and Harry visibly brighten at that news. Even if their wedding was to be hijacked as a trap and the two had high profile-high paying jobs, she had a feeling the final bill would be well beyond what could be imagined. When she glanced over at Dumbledore, she smiled as she saw the familiar twinkle sprout in his eyes.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Granger, you will need to go on a reconnaissance. I want you two to make sure the Servants of the Serpent fall into our trap without a hitch. I will send you over to Mr. Longbottem, who should be able to sort out all the details for you."

And with that, the door to the large office opened and Hermione and Draco gave each other a startled look. Hermione could not remember any of her earlier meetings leading to this sudden request.

They both got up, and walked towards the door, and headed into the busy corridor. She turned to look back into the office, and saw Ginny and Harry wave to her a little, and Dumbledore nodded. She took a breath and turned to lead the way to Neville's office. Something told her, that what was in store would not be pleasant, she though glancing at Draco who was started to stride ahead of her; she ducked as a roll of parchment flew through the air with a message, nearly hitting her in the head as it took a sharp turn into an open office.

This was going to be a _long_ day.

A.N.- wow, that was a lot. For me anyway. And notice how little I've managed to advance the plot? I'll need to stop writing about so many details....

Now, be a lovely audience and reply and review. Tell me what you feel like reading. It's not that I don't have the plot mapped out, I just want to know if you'd rather see a little more humor, more fights between Draco and Hermione, and if you want more action. Don't ask for romance just yet though. There is a method to my madness

Here's a little teaser for the next chapter: two twins will be making their appearance, as well as a former sniveling teacher. (It's rather obvious whom I'm talking about...)

Review! .


	6. Rain and Glamour

6.

Hmmm.... I'm debating leaving this fic, since it's obvious not too many people are reading it... 

_But this story will make me burst if I don't write it out...well, I want this chapter to actually advance the plot...wish me luck.... sigh_

_(oh, I finally realized that FanFiction isn't supporting any of my indentations, the lines, and some of the punctuation I use. Sorry.)_

Draco stopped to knock on the door labeled

"N.Longbottem, Head Auror."

Almost immediately, it swung inward, and Draco stalked into the office. Hermione paused, and stood in the hall, a look of pure bewilderment on her face. Draco impatiently swung around, his robes slapping against his legs

"Well, what are you waiting for? Lightening to strike?" He hissed, and reached over to grab her arm. "What are you staring at you ninny?"

She simply pointed into the office, where Neville sat behind the bureau with a look of amusement; and sitting in the chair next to it-

"Mr. Malfoy, I may not be able to dock points after ten years, but I would enjoy strongly to reprimand you for abusing a young woman. Please release your grip and sit down so we can get on with this wretched business." Said the silky voice of none other than Professor, now Headmaster Severus Snape.

Hermione had not glimpsed the rather greasy looking teacher since Ron's wedding, and saw a cleaner well groomed man who seemed to be doing well. Clearly a head master's salary was what he needed. His usual gloomy old robes were replaced with black silk that reached his neck, with silver buttons on the cuffs and neckline. He wore a curious hat on his head that looked like a square box. She got the impression that Severus Snape had stepped out of the Renaissance, or he was a Rembrandt painting sprung to life.

Hermione collected her wits, and managed to conceal her utter bewilderment, with an inclined head and a murmured "How do you do?" In a day of pure surprise and shock, she wondered whom she would see next. Perhaps Moaning Myrtle would pop out of the wall now?

She sat in a chair near Neville and watched Draco sink into an armchair situated near Snape.

"Well, good day 'Mione. I know it's rather early for you- (Draco audibly sniggered, but was cut off by Hermione's look) – but this is serious. I'm sure you've been briefed on the situation we are facing. And our future sting operation. Now, before we do that, we will be orchestrating a reconnaissance mission. You, Draco Malfoy, with Headmaster Snape's assistance will be attending a meeting of the Servants of the Serpent, an organization you could say Draco is well acquainted with. Here are the details, I want you to read them over."

Neville handed them both a rather large ream of parchment.

"I want you two to gather more information as to who is head of this group. We want this person to stand trial, and hopefully get carted to Azkaban. I want you both to be ready and in the backroom of _Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes _by 3 AM tomorrow. Snape will help you two transport to the meeting place of the group. Alright?"

Draco sagely nodded. Hermione leafed through the text of the parchment, and looked at Neville, straight in the eyes. She wondered what she would do without such a good friend. Ever since he had asked her out to the Graduation Ball...

"Er...Hermione. I've got something to ask you."

"Mmm?" She had murmured, while she sat by the common room fire, nursing her broken foot on a pouf. The battle had been over for a week, but Hermione had found herself brooding more often.

"Mioneyouwanagotothedancewimeemorow?" He had blurted out, eyes shut, as though finally spilling what was on his mind.

She had given him a look of pure surprise. Her had gaze seemed to clear as she realized what he had said, though garbled

"What?"

"I'll understand if you say no...really, you don't have to go with me..."

"Oh Neville..." she had said, a tear involuntarily slipping down her cheek. "I-I can't. It's nothing to do with you. I- don't imagine I'd be much fun. Besides, I don't think I'll be dancing for another month or so." She had said quietly, referring to her foot, her thoughts, everything.

"That's fine." He had pulled over a pouf to sit next to her. She turned her head curious to hear what he meant. "I won't go either."

"Oh, Neville. Don't do this. Besides, Padma Patel's been talking about you non-stop. You've gotten quite popular, since-you know. Why don't you ask her?"

"She's gone back to Diagon Alley to check on Parvati in St.Mungo's." he said shortly. "Besides. I don't think I'd have much fun either. Killing her...it wasn't what I'd thought it would be...I was like her...but worse." he said quietly. Hermione had given him a look of utter sadness, and he stared back with clear, despair filled eyes.

For years, Neville had been harboring a growing hatred for Lestrange, the one who had ripped his life into pieces by torturing his parents. In the final battle, Neville had been the one to strike her with Avada Kedavra first, but only after making her go through the same torture as his parents.

He had broken down, quietly, and she had held his head in her lap throughout the night, stroking his hair as he cried what he needed. They had spent the rest of the night quietly talking, pouring their hearts out. Neville, she realized, was the only one who knew why she still held such an emotional price on what had happened that night, and she of him. He had arguably, however, managed his best to get over the events. He had renewed his auror's training after school, eventually making head of the division. They never spoke of that emotional night afterward, but later on the train home from Hogwarts, he had kissed her on the cheek, and said simply, "Thank you. For everything," when he got off at Kings Crossing.

Those same eyes stared back at her now, though older with more courage and brevity than before. How could she refuse someone she loved as a brother?

"Yes. Of course."

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Hermione and Draco stepped out of the front door of the ministry to be greeted by the usual English rain. Draco cursed and pulled his cloak over his head; Hermione realized that a few of the uttering were Latin, Italian, or French, all three that she was familiar with. She didn't want to let him know she knew their origin, and primly pulled out her wand, and after making her own black with white polka-dotted umbrella appear, made a similar looking one appear for Draco.

"Here." She said, quietly, thrusting it toward him.

"Downright girly is what I'll look like carrying this around." he said gruffly, but opening it all the same over his head.

"Come. I expect we'll need to go into Diagon Alley for what we need." She said, looking around. When was there a muggle taxi when you needed it?

"Tu est trop agaçante.." He muttered quietly. Shaking out his robes, and swiping his matching shirt free of water.

"Ah, oui, et tu est un bête. Quest-ce que tu pense, je ne peaux pas parlé français?" she hissed loudly.

She turned on her heel, deciding to walk towards Diagon Alley. He could bloody well follow her if he wanted to. If she had only looked back, she would have seen a rare sight.

Draco stood in the pouring rain, with a look of pure dumbfoundedness. Suddenly, he broke into a grin. "Touché madammoiselle.Touché"

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By the time Hermione had reached the wall that contained Diagon Alley, the rain had stopped. And by the time she had tapped the bricks, and stepped into the teeming marketplace, followed closely by Draco, the sun had broken out. Shaking her umbrelly free of rain, she pocketed her wand and rolled up her umbrella to carry under her arm.

"Well, here we are. Let's step into a café. We'll need to go over these monstrous texts Longbottem calls a brief." He said pulling her arm and seemed to drag her through the crowd. They stopped in front of an outdoor café, and they both sat down under the umbrella-ed table and chairs. Huffing at the ill treatment of being pulled through the streets, Hermione opened up her brief and quickly read all the notes Neville had written. She glanced up to see that Draco had done the same in the seat across from her.

"'Mione!" yelled a duet of deep baritone voices. Hermione looked up with a startled look at a profoundly amused Draco, as he felt a pair of arms engulf her. As she was released from the grip, she realized that it was Fred and George Weasly, both staring at her with a beaming look. The two, who had always taken after the stockier side of the family, were still stocky and identical, down to their spiked red hair (giving the impression of hell-fire sprouting from their skulls) and their wicked expression.

"George? Fred?" she stammered.

"Oh look brother she knows our names." Said Fred (or was it George?) staggering with his hand on his heart.

"Oh shut it. What are you two doing here. And who's minding the store?" she said curtly, though not able to hid a small smile on her face.

"Business Manager Ronald Weasly. He took a day off from his catering company for us. I believe you know of him?" George said leaning into her chair. "We were helping the lovely Madame Rosmerta with a business plan for the future of her cafe, and we were just leaving," he said pointing to the indoor part of the café "when I saw a ginger haired beauty sitting here with the most forlorn look on her face...and I said to Fred here -didn't I Fred?- If only she would go out to luncheon with me instead of this platinum, Herculean git..." he broke off, clasping her hand in his rather large one, and bending on his knee.

"That we could die happy..." said Fred with a similarly dramatic pose, slapping Malfoy on the back.

"Har de har har..." said Draco clapping mirthlessly, with a smirk. "Funny, but wrong. This snippet and I are here on a mission for Dumbledore. I'm sure you two are aware of it, since we are to depart from that rather resourceful resource room of you store?" he said.

The two of them sat down in the remaining wicker chairs around the table, and suddenly seemed to gain an air of seriousness. It always disconcerted Hermione when they shifted moods like that, since her best memories were of the two forever trying to dodge her when she was a prefect.

"Right-o."said Fred. "And his Majesty Snape is to be there too. The back door will be unlocked, just come in ready. And I mean ready like this." He said turning to Hermione and handing her a small brown paper packet with no writing on it. She took it with some curiosity.

"What is it?" she asked turning it over in her hand.

"Ready made Glamour. Produced exclusively for the Ministry of Magic." Said George quietly, and unconsciously, they all leaned in. "Just pour the powder into a drink, and ingest. You'll almost immediately be changed. Not dramatically, just enough to be immediately unrecognizable. Cuts on the need for Polyjuice potion. Nasty stuff, that." Fred finished off.

"And will I turn back?" she asked.

"Of course. Depends on if you want to though. You'll need to say a few words. Here."

George pulled a ready-quill out of somewhere in the depth of his nice silk red robes, and quickly scribbled a few words onto the packet.

"Quantum de..."

George clapped his hand over her mouth. "Don't say it unless you need to, love. There's a reason we don't sell the stuff. It's rather powerful..."

She nodded with an amount of grave understanding. She, the so-called smartest witch of all time, recognized the twins' power. They may have dropped out of Hogwarts, but were two of the most powerful wizards of all time.

"Good. Let's go George, Rosmerta wants a few projected profit sheets." Said Fred rising out of his chair,

"The gall of her." Said Draco sarcastically.

"Oh, here love. Ginny wanted us to give this to you. She said to be there at 4pm sharpish. Words of advice don't be late. She gets right catty that one does." Winked George, pocketing his quill, and handing her a small notecard. They left, Fred turning to make claw motions and hissing noises to illustrate his sister's temperament to the bewilderment of passer-byes as they walked further down the street. Hermione shook her head and pocketed the Glamour in her robes.

"I don't know about you Granger, but I'm famished. You make a lovely tea, but one can't survive on it." He said, picking up a menu that was lying on the table. Almost instantly, as though a silent bell was attached to the menu, a house-elf wearing a dishtowel with "Madame Rosmerta's Bistro Café" embroidered on it, zoomed next to them.

"If it pleases youse sir, what is it you woulds like to order? Tinker is pleased to bring you what it is you wants to eat." the house-elf babbled.

"Get me a steak with scalloped potatoes. A glass of red wine would go well with that. And the same for the girl."

Fire flashed in Hermione's eyes. "First, Tinker, I will _not_ have the steak and potatoes, I am vegetarian. A salad will do. And, I do not drink. Only at special occasion. And this is certainly not a special occasion. So I will be as much obliged if you brought me a glass of water." She said with gentleness for the house elf, preserving the venom for Draco with a glare.

Tinker zoomed off, to fulfill the order. Hermione glanced down at the card in her hand, and sucked her teeth.

"What is it Granger? Surely not a drunk cow? Two of the most delicious things in life together and offending you?" Draco said liltingly.

"No. I have to go to a fitting at 4." She said annoyed.

"For what?" asked Draco curiously.

"A dress as Maid of Honor..." she said her head in her hands...Ginny was a monster when it came to fittings. As the woman with the latest styles for witches, her couture fashion line was just another successful aspect of the growing Weasly Family Enterprise. She would be lucky to come out in something she didn't feel half nude in, or too flashy for her own elegantly geared tastes.

"Really?" Draco said averting his gaze. "How very fascinating..."he said quickly, reaching for the goblet of wine that Tinker had placed before him. The elf placed a rose colored goblet of water with a slice of lemon in front of Hermione, and ran back to the kitchens for the meals.

"Well, Draco. Now's a good time as any."

"For what Granger?" he said disdainfully.

"I want you to explain everything. I want the _real _truth, not this rubbish they're feeding me," she said flinging the parchment-brief on to the table, startling Draco enough to slosh his wine. "Tell me, why do I need a glamour and you don't?" she said leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A.N.- that was a better chapter if I say so myself. I want to set you up for the truth about Draco (cue dramatic music. duh duh DUH! )

Please review. Do you want to keep reading this, or should I drop it?

_French Translation (please excuse this poor fifth year French student, from her horrible use of accents)- _**"Tu est trop agaçante.." ** You are really very annoying

"**Ah, oui, et tu est un bête. Quest-ce que tu pense, je ne peaux pas parlé français?"** Yes, and you are a beast. What do you think, I don't know how to speak French ?

"**Touché madammoiselle.Touché"** do I really need to translate that ? no. I think you're smart enough.... :-)

_(Horribly obvious) teaser:_ Next chapter hails a rather uncomfortable situation for Hermione involving pins and bad colored cloth, and Draco feels the resounding smack of indignation (from Hermione...)


	7. A dragon and a dandy

7.

_Wow...I give a miniscule threat of leaving this fic, and I receive a great outpouring of love. Thank you all!!!!_

_I **really **appreciate the reviews, especially the one's that are full of constructive criticism. Keep that up folks; it really helps me, even telling me you favorite aspect of a chapter tells me what it is that you enjoy. (Some people really liked my using French...:-P)_

_Well, this is a chapter that is supposed explain Draco a bit, but not entirely. Just keep reading. I will eventually reveal all...._

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Draco and Hermione held what must have looked like to an outside observer, a staring contest for about two minutes. The steely reverie was broken by Draco rapidly blinking his almost translucent eyelashes, and looking away in ill- disguised discomfort.

Hermione did not make a sound, only making her eyes wide and placing a questioning look on her face.

"Let's eat first." Said Draco finally, picking up both his fork and knife in a very European manner, began cutting his steak into to miniscule pieces, and chewing slowly while keeping the fork and knife in his hands. Hermione grudgingly stabbed a piece of mozzarella from among the greens, and began eating. It was hard to enjoy the salty cheese with the anxiety she was feeling. She didn't know what he would say, and was honestly a little frightened.

It was rather sadistic, but she was hoping that he would give her a small reason to distrust him, something she would be able to hold against him. She was a smart witch, supposedly the best of her generation, and she recognized the odd power and control that Draco had been given by some high officials, and it disturbed her. It wasn't right. She had personally looked through the files years ago when she was digging up information against Krum. The file on Draco Malfoy was massive. Report after report of sighting him at Death Eater meetings, perhaps a personal involvement in the torture and murder of a first year muggle born during their seventh year. The theories and reports had gone on for reams and reams of parchment.

Now, here he stood ten years later, supposedly pardoned for everything and Hermione didn't believe one word of it...

"Well?" she said an hour later, after they had spent an awkwardly silent time eating and were starting on their dessert. The ministry was paying, Draco had informed her, and so she had chosen a slice of caramel and vanilla cheesecake on a whim. She picked at the graham cracker crust with her dessert fork, and finally put a little in her mouth.

Draco spooned aimlessly at his tiramisu and, and didn't reply. She tried again.

"I won't sit here forever Malfoy. You either tell me, or I'm off. I'm not putting myself into a situation where I have to rely on only your word." She said firmly.

"It's not that I have a desire to mislead you Granger, contrary to what you may think." He said with a sarcastic drawl.

"Well, what's stopping you then?" she said archly, with the appearance of concentrating on her cake. It was good, not too sweet and not too cloying. But she found the expensive dessert hard to enjoy.

"Because everyone agrees, including Dumbledore and you precious Longbottem, that are you are much too emotional an individual, and wouldn't like what I had to say. You would fly off the handle before I could justify what I was doing."

Hermione slowly, with utter control of her emotions laid down her fork on the plate.

She would not get angry...

She would not get angry...

"Well, all I can say is "Try me Malfoy." ".

"Very well. You asked for it."

She leaned back in the wicker chair, and folded her arms again, her right hand close to the pocket that held her wand.

"I suppose you could say it started in school. Father had been taking me to meetings since I was five. You have to understand, in my family, The Dark Lord was our life. We consorted only with Dark followers. I know the ins and outs of everything by the time I was ten, and I'm sure if let to my own devices I could have become a tiny little terror and killed as many people as I wanted. I genuinely had a desire to do so," he said with a dead tone. Hermione was already appalled at the idea, but not surprised. He continued.

"But Hogwarts got in the way. I was surrounded all the time by low borns, and muggle mudbloods (Hermione flinched), and worst of all by Albus Dumbledore, the enemy of all Dark Servants. He always seemed to know when I was secretly plotting something and seemed to clamp down. Not in a showy manner mind you, but just enough. So of course I got "Daddy Dearest" to help "free" me in second year." He paused to spoon some crème into his mouth, then picked a strawberry out of his dish and chewed on it thoughtfully. Hermione kept herself from screaming at the interruption. Finally he swallowed and resumed talking.

"You know how I tried getting Dumbledore sacked I assume? Didn't work though, he was too damn clever. Not that I was smart enough to realize what was going on. I just kept trying to get rid of him. All the way to sixth year. Father kept taking me to meetings too. But something happened you know. It stopped being all fun and torture." Draco gave a crooked grin, and Hermione wondered how someone could think of it as a catchphrase, "Fun and Torture"

"It was starting to get more serious. Especially fourth year, when the Dark Lord returned, Crabbe and Goyle got initiated, they were death eaters by fifth year with the mark burned into them like everyone else. Except for me. Father wanted my initiation to be different. He wanted to make mine more..._memorable_." Again the sardonic broken smile appeared on his face, and Hermione genuinely started to feel scared. It was a look of someone who was almost...deranged. She tightened her grip on her wand.

"And what was so special?" asked Hermione quietly with a measured amount of calm.

Draco stood up from his chair, wiping his mouth with the embroidered napkin.

"Let's go." He said picking up his brief, and dropping some Galleons on the table.

"But-"she protested, getting up nonetheless.

"Just come with me. Let's find a better place to speak."

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"Father wanted me to succeed him as head of the sect. Wormtougue was weak, we all knew that. He would most likely not make it through our impending war." He continued as they walked along a more deserted street that Hermione recognized as a path that might lead to Knockturn Alley. She shivered, as she felt the damp atmosphere immediately chill the air. Impulsively, she glanced down at the pearl bracelet watch. 3:45 pm. Damn, she would have to cut this airing of grievances short if she wanted to avoid raising anger in her "best friend but minx" (as Harry had told her once).

"So Father gave me a sort of mission when I came home during the summer hols after second year. He said if I carried it out, I would be worshipped by the Servants. Become second only to the Lord. If only I could accomplish what no one had done before..." he trailed off, stopping suddenly.

Hermione nearly crashed into his back violently, but succeeded in only bumping her nose. Hard. While she rubbed it with her hand annoyed, Draco turned and looked at her.

"I...You don't want to hear this." He said quickly.

"Malfoy, if you want me to even consider following through with this mission, you will tell me." She said strength entering her voice, which was muffled by her hand on her nose.

"Fine. But you asked for it." He said, pausing again.

"Go on." She said impatiently.

"My mission was to kill the Boy Who Lived. And to bring in his friends for torture. And at the same time, kill one Albus Dumbledore, high enemy to the Dark Lord."

Hermione reeled back, physically. She stared at Draco. She knew it. He was pure evil. He always was, and he always would be.

"Hermione ...you have to understand, I-"

He was interrupted abruptly as Hermione swung her left arm back and slapped him in the face. Hard.

Draco stepped back with a shocked look, his large square hand covering his cheek which was rapidly turning red.

"You utter snake. You ...bastard!" she hissed. Breathing heavily she turned on her heel, and began to walk opposite of where they had come from, leaving an utterly stunned Draco standing forlornly behind her.

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A tear slipped down her face and Hermione angrily wiped it off her cheek with the back of her hand. She stopped in front of _Florentine's Fine Ice Cream_, and pulled out her compact to look at her face and make sure not a hair was out of place, and realized her eyes were red. Angrily she snapped it shut. Pulling out a few Knuts, she purchased a cup of peach sorbet and walked to the end of the marketplace where _Weasly's Wizarding Couture_ was located. The treat cooled off her temperament a little, and she chucked the container in a nearby bin. She stopped in front of the impressive building and stood wondering what to do.

She hated being fitted; it was one of the most uncomfortable practices in her opinion. She liked to shop in Muggle department stores where everything was on the rack and ready. But this was Ginny's wedding and she did not want to be the "difficult one". The building was a deep purple (_why_ was that Ginny's favorite color? She wondered) with a large pane of glass with the store's name painted on in a shimmering script that was always changing colors. The mannequins in the storefront eerily without faces, changed their poses every few minutes as though on the catwalk themselves.

Among all her siblings, Ginny's merchandise was the farthest reaching, especially among the wives and girlfriends of other celebrity Quidditch players. This was how Ginny had started to spread her name in England. The trend of her clothes had spread as far as France, and she had become an established designer. Now she was swamped with orders, and since she specialized in couture, every dress had to be designed especially for the ones who ordered. She was back ordered ever since she had gone on the world tour with Harry, and now that the new sports season had started, Ginny was back at work, trying to finish all that she could before her wedding soon.

Suddenly the door opened with a crash, bringing Hermione out of her reverie. She looked curiously at the man that was holding the door open, and who was ogling her himself. He was quite a character by the looks of it. Long black hair was swept back with pomade, his mustache fairly _curled_ at the edges, and a suave goatee covered his chin. He was wearing a stylish purple robe over a white suit with a rose in the buttonhole.

"Senorita....to _what _do I owe this honor?" he breathed out. He stepped forward, and suddenly grabbed her hand and began kissing it. He fell on one knee. "You are...a vision! Please! You must let me design for you! Such elegance, such beauty, such...such...-"

"-an ability to be late?" finished Ginny standing in the doorway, her hand on her hip. Her willowy frame was reminiscent of her brother Ron. She was still wearing the dress that Hermione had seen her in Dumbledore's office in, but her long auburn hair was now piled on her head with a jeweled pin.

"4:15 Hermione." She said mockingly. "You of all people are supposed to be the one who is punctilious." She looked at the strange man, and sighed. "Miguel, do let her go. That's my maid of honor, not one of the hussies you find on the street to design for."

Hermione managed to pull her (now rather wet) hand out of Miguel's grip, and stepped over his prostrate figure towards Ginny. As they walked toward her back fitting room, Ginny leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Don't mind Miguel. He's the Spaniard fellow I hired a while back. He's really very lovely, and he works hard, he's just rather....eccentric?" She whispered Ginny.

"I think you mean downright balmy." Hermione whispered back. The two giggled a little, but the smile was wiped right off of Hermione's face when she saw the sight before her. The large room was enchanted like Dumbledore's office, though not nearly as large. In the center stood three of Ginny's assistants, one of whom hastily stubbed out a cigarette at the sight of her boss. The entire room seemed to be swathed in bolts of an emerald colored satin. And everywhere were sketches of dresses, some that made Hermione cringe. Miguel suddenly walked in behind them. He seemed to slide into the center of the room, clapped his hands and then threw them in the air. The assistants scattered, all getting various supplies.

"Senorita Granger, let us begin!" he cried. Hermione felt herself pulled onto a small platform and sighed.

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"You have a lovely sized bust. Perfectly in proportion to your flower like hips." Miguel breathed suavely at Hermione. Ginny stifled a laugh at Hermione's exasperated expression. She had been measured over and over again by Miguel and his assistants, and all he had offered her so far were compliments on her measurements.

"Er, Miguel?" Said Ginny who was "supervising" from a corner, though Hermione suspected she was only here to watch the debacle. "Hermione needs to get back to her apartment by eight. Can we start the fabric now please?" Hermione realized that Ginny was aware of the time crunch of the mission; she was supposed to be at the Weasly twins' store by nine thirty. If she accepted the mission now.

"But of course. Vámanos!" he shrieked at the assistants who looked quite put out themselves. They were tired too, as Hermione realized when two of them jabbed her with their pins.

"Sorry miss!" said the smoking one, who had re-lighted during the hour much to Hermione's displeasure, after she had given a little shriek of pain.

Ginny got up from her corner, and Hermione felt her knees lock up as the next two hours passed by with Ginny authoritatively making cuts and marks with her fabric pen.

Soon, the dressmaker's torso in the corner had the entire dress pieced together with pins. It was too low cut for Hermione's taste, though it had a nice bodice and skirt, with thin straps. Hermione was too tired to protest, and was increasingly anxious about whether she would appear in the resource room of _Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes _soon.

As she left the store into the night (Miguel kissing her hand again) she made her way past the inns and bustling restaurants in the night. Her thoughts in turmoil she stopped at the village square, and sat on the edge of the fountain that was decorated with figures of centaurs, nymphs and birds. She trailed her fingers in the pink water, wondering what she would do. She wanted nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, her experience today only increasing her distrust. But she had given her word. And the temptation to finally get rid of all sign of the Dark Mark was strong. She wanted to get rid of one of the signs of what made her miserable today.

She whispered the words she needed to apparate, and with a pop, she ended up back in her disheveled apartment.

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She walked towards the kitchen, fully intending to make a cup of tea before making any sitting down to an hour of thought on what to do. As she neared she sink, she stopped as she saw the two cups and saucers that she and Draco had been drinking from that morning, lying next to the counter where she had hastily put them to wash later.

Suddenly, she realized her mind was made up.

As the tea kettle whistled an hour later, Hermione pulled out the packet of Glamour from her pocket. She poured the contents into her teacup, and put the packet with its spell written on it by Fred (or was it George?) in her skirt pocket. She had freshened up a bit, and now stood in her clothes sans her robe and shoes.

"Well..." she said out loud to herself, "here goes nothing."

And she downed the contents of the cup down her throat.

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A.N- well what do you think?

Please read and review! Thank you soooo much for your support, it literally took me by surprise. I went from about 4 comments to 21! It feeds my ego, it really does. Now, when you give some feedback, tell me what you want to see more of. Do you like the tense moments? Do you like the drama? Do you like hearing about Ginny and Harry? Do you _really_ like Miguel? I should mention that Miguel is Miguel. He is not a conspirator, or anyone really essential to the plot. I just really like Miguel, he's a total dandy of a character. So hands off of him!

_Teaser! Teaser_!- Hermione sees Draco again after causing him some consternation, and becomes someone else entirely...and she feels a little good (though she thinks she shouldn't be...) about it...


	8. Transformation and an Inn

8.

_Er...thank you Nicole times 3. :-P (I think you pushed "enter" three times while it was still processing your review? Either way it's great, it upped my review count....)_

_With more people reading this, I'm throwing myself into it more. I originally though it would at most be ten chapters, but it seems that I'll end up with one of those fics that's about twenty or so chapters... .:-/ That should be annoying enough to people who encounter the story for the first time, and realize they have to slog through thirty chapters to get to the point....sigh._

_I will not bring Miguel back until the end due to apparent hatred for him.sob_

_Well here it is chapter 8..._

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Hermione swooned a little, and leaned onto the counter for support as she felt her heart beat in her head. She recognized the peculiar feeling from when she had experimented with Polyjuice Potion in second year. Closing her eyes, she stumbled over to the green couch and collapsed on it, deciding to let the Glamour run its course...she felt herself pass out as she felt her skin start to tingle...

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A half hour later, she opened her eyes, and after a few moments of wondering where she was, sat up with a groggy feeling remembering what she had just ingested.

"Those two...." She muttered to herself. "They could make it more comfortable couldn't they...?" She nearly jumped when she realized her normally husky voice was now higher pitched and breathy. She realized the full extent of what she had just done, and was alarmed enough to want to start fearing what she looked like. (Though she didn't thing of herself as a vain individual, she did harbor the hope that she didn't look like Millicent Bullstrode.)

She swung her legs off, and walked with shaky knees to the bathroom to see hers self. As she entered the room, she apprehensively turned on the light switch and walked slowly to the mirror, and gave her self an appraisal.

Her hair still maintained its length and texture, but was a darker more auburn color than her usual brown. Her face was also seemingly the same shape, but her lips were a little bit fuller, and her eyes had an exotic look as they were now a lighter hazel from her usual deep chocolate brown. Her nose, usually upturned a little was now had a ramrod straight ridge, and was very Grecian. She raised an eyebrow, and when the figure in the mirror did the same she fully felt the implication of having a body that was hers, and yet not hers. It was rather queer, but the changes were rather subtle and she actually liked what she saw. She immediately yanked that vain though, and tried to pull her train of though back into the business at hand.

Stepping back from the full length mirror, she was glad to note her tall frame was not changed, though her neck was a little bit longer looking. Glancing at the wall clock, she saw that it was 8:45. She was to be at the Twin's store by 9:30, and she would have to change out of her normal office clothes. .

Heading to her closet, she sighed as she realized she would have to wear some clothes she hadn't worn for a good five years.

"Accio skirt." She sad halfheartedly, and her black skirt came zooming to her where she was sitting on her bed. She knew from experience that at Death Eater meetings, and now Servants of the Serpent, the woman liked to dress up as though attending a regular old party, and tried to wear their best, though collectively choosing always wearing black. "How festive." She thought to herself.

As she struggled to get both of her now rather voluptuous thighs through the pleated black tiered skirt that reached midway down her legs, she summoned her black blouse. She then went through an even more violent struggle to get on a pair of pantyhose. She nearly fell off her perch on the bed and upon hearing the Munch's _Scream _figure cackling at her with his cheeks still in his hands in the hallway, she hissed a rather un-ladylike. "You can bloody well shut up!"

When she finished getting up to put on her black pumps, she sweating from the effort. She changed her jewelry to the more antique silver styles that the Dark ladies preferred, and let her newly auburn hair loose. She also ringed her eyes with a little kohl, giving her an even more pale pallor. She then pulled on the hooded black robe that was a staple in costume to the Dark side.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and satisfied that she looked nothing like she usually did, whispered the spell, and with a pop, she left the apartment.

"I hope she plans to dress like that all the time!" said the _Scream _figure, while a girl from a nearby Monet painting gasped and whacked him with her parasol.

"The nerve..." she sniffed flouncing back to the French countryside in her own painting.

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As she felt herself arrive in the store, Hermione felt a wave of nausea go over her. Apparently, her body hadn't adjusted to the spell yet. She grabbed on to a shelf of Yakking Yo-Yo's, which immediately started telling bad jokes as she accidentally jolted them

She heard the back door open, and Fred walked hurriedly towards her. "Miss, I'm sorry but our store is- Good grief, our Glamour Goddess has arrived. You're probably still feeling a little kick from it?" he said hastily holding her hand and shoulder and leading her to the resource room.

"Fred. That was more ghastly than Henxly Juice. What on earth is in it?" she said though clenched lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he answered smugly, and Hermione decided that she didn't.

Fred opened the door, and whispered through it, "It's all right. It's 'Mione. Draco, be careful, she'll be feeling a bit wonky for about fifteen minutes still."

She gazed around the small room, where a fire was blazing. Next to it stood Snape with a small curved dagger and a bottle of some potion in either hand. Neville was also there, with his wand out. She turned to see Draco standing on the other side, similarly dressed as her, his shaggy blonde hair slicked back like his father's always was, his cloak fastened tightly with the hood up. He looked at the floor when Hermione glanced at him, and Hermione felt a little stab of shame at losing her temper.

"Here." Said George tossing her a small ball of blue glass, and she deftly caught it. She recognized the Ministry's Aid Crystal. "You know what to do."

"Hermione, if anything happens, all you have to do its blow on it. I mean anything." Neville said, with a little worry in his voice. The Crystal would rapidly send a signal to the ministry who would send out emergency forces for rescue based on the location of the crystal. She pocketed the ball in the pocket of her cloak, and cleared her throat self consciously. Just then, the cuckoo clock on the wall struck 9:30 PM.

Snape gasped audibly, and raised his sleeve. "The calls gone out. Hurry up Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't pull her gaze away from the dark mark that was on Snape's arm, now seeming to pulse and writhe. Draco went up to Snape and raised his own sleeve. Snape opened the cap of the bottle and dashed a drop of the potion on to Draco's inner wrist where it hissed.

"Mérde..." he hissed though gritted teeth.

Snape then nicked his Dark Mark with the dagger, and as dark blood welled up he pressed it against Draco's arm gripping his wrist.

They both closed their eyes, and a convulsion seemed to go through Draco's entire body. Hermione averted her eyes and closed them. It was sickening, seeing the two of them sharing that pain. They pulled apart, and Hermione saw what looked like the Dark Mark branded into Draco's arm. She held back the gasp for air she couldn't seem to get.

"Come. Before they get suspicious." Draco said with a wheeze. He grabbed her arm, and stood in front of the fire. He grabbed a handful of powder out of the fishbowl that George and Fred kept their Floo powder in.

"To the Ring of SALZAAR!" he said, shouting the last word and pulling them both into the Floo network.

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After what seemed like five minutes of endless sooty spinning, they finally stopped. She coughed as she accidentally breathed in what felt like a pail full of ash.

"Come." Said Draco in sotto voice, his voice seeming rumbling peculiarly as he whispered in her ear. "Whatever you do, don't speak. I'll tell you more in the carriage."

"Carriage?" she questioned finally taking a look around her. She realized that it was relatively quiet with some chatting, and a great many hooded figured were standing around in what appeared to be an inn, where carriages where arriving one by one near the open door. The figures were entering them in pairs.

"Sh!" He hissed pulling up his hood. Hermione followed his cue, and he pulled her to the door. As they stood waiting, a figure came up to Draco and slapped him on the back.

"Hey Dragon! Who's the friend?" said an oddly familiar voice, which Hermione couldn't seem to place, though it niggled at her brain.

'Oh, just someone who's sympathetic to our situation. Newly graduated, thinking about joining." Said Draco in a gruff voice.

"Oh really? Well I hope you find yourself welcome at the Servants. Just don't snag our dragon here." Said the figure that was rather shorter than Hermione, the last few words said petulantly, as though they had special meaning. She simply nodded her head.

As the person walked away, a black Victorian styled carriage came up and Draco opened the door and hastily got in. Hermione followed, and upon getting in, almost slipped on the little step under the door. Draco grabbed her arm before she fell, and yanked her into the carriage. She landed on the cushioned seat with an "oof", and felt the carriage immediately take off as the door shut.

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"Alright. Why couldn't I talk?" she questioned, rearranging her cloak.

"Simply because I couldn't trust you with a slip of tongue." He said avoiding her gaze. "And-" he continued as she started to huff in her seat, "because you need a working knowledge before I let to interact with the others. This is an informal meeting, meaning it's more of a party, but that doesn't mean you won't hear information. Now, the key is, they all think you're a new member I've inducted, and they won't question me. So you'll be able to mingle with everyone, including the men, which the women do not usually do. Dance, flirt, talk, do whatever it is you have to do to butter these people up. And talk with the women too. Get into their inner circle, lord knows I can never seem to." He said, running his hand through his slicked back hair. "I can't always be with you, it will seem odd. But if you do need to speak with me, just brush up against me, or wait by the vase in the foyer."

"Foyer. Right." She said, remembering the layout in the brief. "Is there a check of the Dark Mark?" she questioned.

"Usually, but if you're a new initiate, they won't bother."

'Huh. Rather easy to get in isn't it." She said more to herself than anything. "Oh, who was that who came up to us? She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her."

"That, Granger, was Parkinson. Please avoid her as much as possible. You may not care for my past, but she is past that could hurt our mission." He said in a rather short voice, turning to look out the window.

Hermione filed the information away, and turned to watch the castle that was fastly approaching.

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A.N.- That was more informational filler than actual story , but the next chapter should be more exciting.

-.-;

Teaser- A dance, a ball , that does not end at midnight. And the party's end isn't quite fairytale happiness...


	9. Glittermoss and Anise delight

9.

_So, I finally update. This chapter is what I hope can set a different tone than the sort of comedic one I have written with so far. Here, Hermione and Draco get serious in more ways than one. Enjoy._

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Hermione pulled her hood up so that only her chin was showing. Draco mimicked her, and she grimaced a little when she realized that it made him look like a dementor. As the carriage shuddered to a stop in front of the castle, a liveryman opened the door. He held out his hand to help her down, and when Hermione turned to thank him, she had to compose herself before she curtseyed back at his bow. The liveryman, dressed in black breeches and vest with an 18th century wig had no eyes, only black holes where they should have been. He was a Living Cadaver, a dead body brought back to life with no soul or thought. Draco stepped down behind her. He tucked her arm under his, and held her uncomfortably close as they walked into the entrance of the foyer and walked up a flight of stairs to the ballroom. She could smell the cologne he was wearing, an intoxicating medley of sandalwood and some familiar flower she couldn't identify....

She took in a deep breath of his scent, and tried to compose her mind for the task ahead.

Once inside the doorway, Hermione glanced up through her hood and was grudgingly impressed at the large chandelier and the candles in the sconces of the wall. The Cadaver had followed them and tapped Draco on the shoulder.

"Sir Draco Malfoy and Lady Helena Troy." He said pompously. The Cadaver-liveryman bowed, and walked toward the announcer, who tapped his cane three times and announced the names in a loud sonorous voice. There were a few eyes that turned interestedly toward this mysterious "Helena Troy", then just as disinterestedly turned away. (She would have to speak to Draco about finding more convincing aliases, or at least one that was inspired from a less tragic event.)

Draco released her arm almost giving her an opposite push as he walked toward a group of men talking in low voices. She slowly walked toward the table where a few flutes of red colored punch were arranged along with a plate of some gray spread on squares of wheat toast, and pieces of pomegranate were arranged in spirals. She hesitatingly pulled down her hood and picked up a flute. Just as she was about to take a sip, felt a tap on her shoulder. Suppressing the urge to spill her drink in surprise, she whipped around.

She was once again facing her former schoolmate Pansy Parkinson. Standing next to her were two other women. One stood a full head taller with a face like a parrot, her yellow hair piled on top of her head. The other one was wearing her black hair in an elaborately woven bun, and wore a tiny black fabric star on her cheek like the dandies of the 18th century. Both had imperiously bored looks on their faces, though they subtly appraised her with their eyes.

"Miss Troy is it? I'd like you to meet my friends Clarissa Kople and Sophie L'ennui. I must confess that we are rather curious about you. We're delighted that you're joining us of course. Simply because our leader has passed on, does not mean that we should not carry on is legacy. Come, join us in the ladies chamber."

Alarm bells went off in her head, remembering Pansy from her days at Hogwarts. As her memory served her, Pansy was not wont to invite someone she barely knew if there wasn't a motive behind it. Still, her mission was to gather information, and this was the perfect opportunity.

"Why yes, I would be delighted Mrs....?" she said sweetly her new higher pitched voice making her sound like a coquettish pixie.

"It's _Miss_. Parkinson, Miss. Troy." Pansy snapped, a little blush appearing in her pale cheeks her smooth demeanor dropped slightly. Good lord, why did all the Dark Arts people look as the sun was their enemy?

"Well, do come. There are some delightful drinks, Baxter will fix you something." She said in a more calm voice, plucking the flute out of 'Helena's' hand, and Clarissa folded her arm in hers.

"Miss. Troy, your hair _is _a most deee-lightful shade of brown and purple. Pray, who is your Cosmo-Witch?" said Sophie walking behind them.

"Err...I believe it is auburn. And it is my natural shade." Hermione said in a lofty voice as possible in the situation. In _this_ particular situation, she felt like bursting out laughing. These women were vapid beyond belief. How they came to become some of the most ruthless women of the wizarding world, she would never know.

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Some twenty minutes later, she knew why. Hermione held a goblet of some strange green liquid that a greasy looking man who was known as Baxter behind a counter had mixed up for her. He had handed it to her, not accidentally feeling her hand, declaring it to be "Ivy Ambrosia."

As Hermione sat on the velveteen settee, she discreetly poured the entire contents of the steaming drink into a vase of roses next to her on a table, which promptly wilted. She placed the goblet on the floor next to her, and turned her attention back to the conversation at hand. There were at least seven other women, all around the same age as her, and all looking as though they had stepped out of a Victorian portrait. They were all seated in a shadowed balcony looking down on the ballroom floor, where an orchestra was playing some haunting music as a few couples spun in time to the waltzes. Hermione was startled to realize that they had just started on Vivaldi's _Four Seasons._ It was ironic she was hearing her most comforting music in a most uncomfortable place...

"...So I told my Herbert that if he in-_sis_-ted on bringing in some muggle servants, they could only work in the yard. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why he's second in command for our next mission. He was about let those filthy mudbloods into my home? I do _not _care if they are Cadavers and Mind Wiped. They are simply _disgusting_!" said a rather unctuous voice belonging to a red head that was reclining on a sofa.

Hermione withheld her own shudder of disgust at the cavalier cruelties of the women. She also filed the information into her brain. _"Herbert Melgrove. Second in command."_ She thought to herself. These women may have been some of the most ruthless women around, but they were too prideful to check their tongues. She already had a wealth of information in little less than half an hour.

"But Miss. Troy, I am sorry for ignoring you..." said Pansy turning to face her. The alarm bells went off afresh in Hermione's head. "Please tell us, where are you from? My dragon told me you have recently come out a Magical Finishing school? You must be truly intelligent to have pursued your studies so..." she said, taking a swig of a frothy pink drink.

"Ah yes, I did indeed. I attended Mr. Lupus' School for the Lunar Shift..." she said quickly pulling an obscure name for herself.

"Reaa-ly? How charming."Said the redheaded Mrs. Melgrove from her seat on the couch. "Pray, tell me, do you not find our group the crème of the crop?" she said, her slimy voice seeming to ooze through the air.

"Oh yes," Hermione stalled, her voice breathily sighing as though in contentment. "I was simply not happy with what I was seeing after my studies were completed. Muggles were _everywhere._ And I simply cannot stand those mudbloods who claim they are truly magical. Blood will always out."she said in what she hoped was a convincingly furious and lofty voice.

She turned, startled, when she heard a lone person slowly clapping behind her. The whiff of sandalwood hit her nose, and she was almost relieved to see Draco standing behind her, his robes draped over his arm and his gray gloves in one hand.

"Bravo Miss. Troy. You will fit in here quite well..." he said, his schoolboy smirk fixed in a crooked angle on his clean-shaven face.

"Oh Dra-co." said Pansy, her voice suddenly more girlish. "Whatever are you doing in the women's quarters?"

"I, Miss. Parkinson, have been instructed to call all of you young ladies down for the dancing and dinner." Draco said in a stony voice, sweeping his arm towards the stairs as he bowed deeply.

The women all got up, and unwrapped their robes, exposing their dresses and skirts, all in black of course. Hermione hesitatingly did the same. As the women milled ahead of her, she pulled out the small Aid Crystal, and pocketed it in her skirt. Her wand got the same treatment.

"You're doing well Granger. Talk to some more men if you can now. I'll keep an eye out." He said, throwing his belongings in the arms of a Cadaver servant as they slowly went down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, he gave her a gently push toward a chair at the long table where dinner was being served. She sat down in the chair, and a Cadaver butler whipped a napkin into her lap. Her whispered "Thank You." went unheeded.

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Hermione felt like screaming in frustration. Her other missions that she had performed before had never required her to interact with the Death Eater type for so long. She went in, she conquered, and she left, usually with whatever information Dumbledore needed. But here she was, two hours later, pretending to be interested in her cherry torte as those around her ate, and milled around dancing.

"You'll pick that to death you know." Said an amused voice. Hermione nearly dropped her fork in surprise, but recovered quickly. She turned to her left, where the brown haired man who had sat next to her all through dinner finally spoke.

He was heartbreakingly handsome, his face square with a well proportioned nose with a dimple in his chin, and beautiful blue eyes. His brown hair was slicked back like all the other men, but Hermione though that if he let it be, he would look like Heracles.

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you yet. I'm Zachary Montero ...Miss..?" he inquired, holding out a large white gloved hand. She gingerly shook it.

"Troy. Helena Troy." She said breathily, for once not a byproduct of her new voice. He turned her hand over, and kissed the back of it.

"Charmed." He said smiling to reveal brilliant teeth. "A beautiful name for one of the world's most beautiful women."

Though Hermione knew this was the enemy flirting with her (flirting with her! She couldn't recall the last time someone did that, except for Fred and George...), she was nonetheless enchanted with him.

"I see you know your Greek ..." she said smiling.

"And I can see you are quite a belle of this ball. Will you please grace me with a dance?" he said getting out of his seat to bow deeply to her. Hermione thought quickly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to attract too much attention, but...Draco had said to consort with the men as much as possible. And besides. She loved dancing.

She got up and curtseyed. "Of course Mr. Montero. I would be delighted."

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"Your waltz is divine." Zachary said to her as they pranced around the room.

"Oh, I would say it is mediocre at best Mr. Montero."

"Please, please, Zachary. I hope you find our group most pleasing. After all, our cause is great. With our next mission in destroying the cursed Order of the Phoenix, we will finally be able to fix this mess. The Dark Lord will not be forgotten." He said, still in his suave and charming manner. Hermione suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

"My dear, whatever is the matter?" Zachary said in a concerned voice. "You look quite put out."

"Oh it's nothing." She said quickly, her hand on her forehead. "I think it's just rather ...hot."

"Of course, allow me to get you a drink." He said leading her over to a pouf on the side of the room. She sat down, and though to herself. She had realized with his patriotic declaration that he was no different than any of the others in the room. He was nothing like Viktor. And certainly nothing like-

"Here darling. Drink this. It will make you feel better." Zachary interrupted her thoughts with a champagne flute of the same fizzy pink liquid Pansy had been drinking earlier. She took a light sip and was surprised at the taste. It was like grapefruit juice with cherries, and oh....

She finished the flute, and got up to dance with Zachary once again.

"Now where we?" she said, smiling.

"Ah yes. I hope I can show you around our facilities soon?"

"Of course. That would be a great help." She said, once again preparing her brain to store information. She suddenly felt a pounding in her head.

"Oh dear, I think I drank that too quickly." She said quietly with a giggle.

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Half an hour later, Hermione was swirling the pink drink in her flute on her pouf, as Zachary sipped a goblet of brandy next to her in the curtained room that was next to the ballroom floor. It was her third drink.

"So...as I was saying, you must come to my Riviera boat. You will love it I know you will..." he said with a slight slur.

Hermione placed her hand on her head. She felt rather....queer. Like her mind was traveling through a smog. And a damn good smog, her body felt...so good. She smiled and took another sip. She didn't know why she had thrown out that drink earlier...Baxter was obviously a genius.

The orchestra broke into _Spring, _and suddenly she felt melancholy. It was her favorite music. She listened to it whenever she felt bad. Like when that git Draco had ruined her life.

"My perfectly peaceful life." She whispered out loud. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to see Draco standing behind her, and despite a stressed set to his mouth, his face was all charm as he held the curtain back.

"Montero. I hope I can steal one dance from Miss. Troy here? You have simply been hogging the beauty all for yourself." He said suavely, pulling on his gray gloves.

"Sure Draco. Take her. Just don't use her up too much before you give her back." He said laughing rather loudly, forcing Hermione to cover her ears.

"Come Miss. Troy. We _need_ to dance now." Draco said pulling her up. He suddenly frowned as he spotted her champagne flute.

"_Helena._" He said in a tight voice. "How many of these have you had? Who has been giving them to you?"

"Oh only three so far. Got to finish the fourth though..." she said giggling. "Or Baxter'll be mad. Zachary said they would make me feel better. And he was right..." she sighed, and sat back down on the pouf.

"Merde." He whispered. "This is one of Parkinson's type." He delicately sniffed glass, and grimaced. "Fuck. Fuck. Anise and Glittermoss extract. You're drugged. Merde." he hissed.

"What was that?" said Zachary, crooking his hand behind his ear. "I hope you weren't insulting that. It always gets the girls all happy. Really Malfoy, you're a sour fellow. You should have some yourself."

Draco pulled Hermione up to her feet, and she felt the shocked feeling register on her face, as Draco drew back his arm and punched Zachary Montero in the face. She watched with hazy fascination as he grabbed his jaw, and blood trickled down his chin. Draco turned swirling his robes and dragging a stumbling Hermione behind him.

As they walked through the curtains, out of the ballroom, down the stairs and into the foyer, Hermione felt like she had something important to say.

But it never came out of her mouth. As Draco slipped her robe on he shoulders, she sighed and closed her eyes.

Draco looked bemusedly at the figure of Hermione as she breathed lightly, asleep, and leaning into his shoulder.

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A.N- that was a totally different tone for the ending. As per requested, it is starting to heat up. I have to warn you though; it will be a slow, bittersweet, but fruitful.... . 

Teaser: Hermione recovers and is rather embarrassed when she does wake up....how will she deal with the new emotions that are starting to crop up...Harry suffers a horrible defeat...and why is Draco so frightened?


	10. A Drugged Dream and A Bad Loss

10.

_Wow. I'm on the tenth chapter! I feel like I should be celebrating or something. Ah, well, without any delay here is the next chapter....oh by the way I lied...I brought Miguel back but in a different manner..._

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Fred and George were sitting in high back chair on opposite sides of the resource room of_ Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes_, passing a Hoverbomb back and forth. (Their own patent of course.)

_Thwack._

_Thwack_

Snape raised one eyebrow, giving them a glare that was reminiscent of their days as students. Fred just grinned, and continued throwing the orange pulsing ball even harder.

Neville gave a loud cough. "Er, Fred, George? Would you mind? We're all nervous enough, and you are not helping the situation much now..."

"Oh, tush." George snorted. "You two need to relax more. Get a grip. Let it all flow..." he said, spreading his arms to demonstrate "the flow" and missed the ball that Fred threw, and it stopped exploding near his face with a small bang. The Hoverbomb made a whirring sound as the pieces came back together, and Fred started to guffaw at George's hair, which was now sticking in a backwards direction from the blast making him look as though he had stuck his head in a wind tunnel.

"I believe, Mr. Weasly, that your demonstration of the "flow" makes it seem rather dangerous." Snape said dryly, rearranging his robes.

George simply grinned and smoothed his hair, pulling out his wand and with a flick restored his punkish hairdo.

"Well, they should be arriving back any second now," said Neville checking his watch fob.

"In fact," said Fred, "Me thinks they are on their way now..." He was pointing to a modified version of the Weasly Family Clock that the twins kept in their shop, with all the pointers of the people they knew. A long red hand and an even longer silver hand, with the names 'Hermione' and 'Draco' in gold script were both swinging around and then came to a quivering stop on "In transit", but only for a second. They started to spin even faster again, finally stopping with a click on "The Store".

A loud bang made all four people in the room jump, and they turned around to see Draco sprawled on the floor from the exit path of the floo fireplace. They all got up to rush toward him, and all (even Snape) held their breath at the sight of the figure that Draco was still carrying slung in his arms.

"Mr. Malfoy. What has happened?" Snape asked sharply.

"Take her." Sid Draco with a rasp, and coughed from the ash in his throat. "And for God's sakes, turn her back. She isn't in any shape to do it herself." He continued.

Fred and George both lifted Hermione's prone body, and laid her down on an old couch they kept in the room. Neville helped Draco up, and they all crowded around her body.

Immeditaely, George pulled out his wand, and Fred started a chant of words that made the hair on Draco's neck stand on end. Hermione let out a contented sigh, and a silver mist suddenly erupted out of Fred's wand and enveloped her body. A few minutes later, it suddenly cleared away as though from a breeze, and the old Hermione lay in front of them, though still asleep.

Draco gave a loud exhale of relief, and collapsed to sit on a nearby armchair.

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"So, what exactly happened?" asked George handing Draco a cup of tea from the pot warming over the fireplace."

"She was drugged. Glittermoss and Anise." Draco said in a tired tone. He went to sip his tea, but paused to stare at the cup as though recalling a distant memory. He gave a tiny little smile and drank deeply from the teacup.

"Why didn't you use the crystal?!" said Neville with a little irritation in his voice.

"We couldn't. Too much attention would have been drawn. Too many people were staring at me and the lady I was dragging like a caveman as it was. And believe it or not, that sort of cocktail is a drug that many of the Dark Women enjoy, and Hermione' symptoms would not really be considered unusual at all. And the men seem to like it too, though for another reason. They use it to "butter up" girls for-... well you know what." Draco replied shortly, grimacing at what he knew were Zachary Montero's intentions, and wondering at why Hermione had accepted it.

"'Mione's not a drinker anyway." Interrupted Fred. "She couldn't have known."

"Well, she'll be out for a while either way. She had a of information gathered too I believe. We'll have to wait for a debriefing until tomorrow." He said, placing the cup in the saucer and looking at Neville. He nodded back, and they all sat waiting for the sun to rise. When dawn was peeking over the town, Fred and George got up to get the shop ready, and Snape apparated with apologies, but he had to be back to Hogwarts before real trouble erupted there. Finally, Neville and Draco were the only two left guarding the prone form of the sleeping Hermione Granger.

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It was odd, but Hermione was somehow not surprised to see the garden around her. The flowers blossoms were the size of her head, and their heady smell filled her nostrils. Smiling, she leaned back in her emerald green dress tilting her face to the sun and, why it was the same one Ginny had made for the wedding!

Hermione closed her eyes and felt her long honey-brown hair swish pleasantly across her open back.

"Sénortia, will you be sleeping long?" asked a voice that was close to her ear, and she opened her eyes in surprise. Balanced on the long stem of a large sunflower across the ring like garden that totally surrounded the grassy clearing, was Miguel, though he looked ...different. He was wearing red pantaloons and a orange silk shirt with a red vest. He was also bare footed, and he wore a wreath of violets and roses in his slicked back hair, and his mustache was twirled as usual. But...were those little _horns _coming out of his head?

"You look like a satyr." She giggled, getting up off the grass, and crawling closer to him. He grinned wickedly and executed a perfect forward flip to land in front of her. She looked up, and grinned. She got up, and stood in front of him expectantly.

"Some, senorita, would call me a diablo as they have chased me out. Or they have thought me an amante come to fulfill their desires, and I run away." He said in a sing song voice.

"But you, oh senorita, you know me as what I am and have not chased me out of this dream like other stupid humans who have forgotten..." he said using the wreath as a hat as he bowed deeply in front of her. Giggling, she curtseyed back.

"But really, Sénortia, you will have to wake up soon. It is not right to make him worry like this..." he said leaning in to whisper to her, and she leaned in as well.

"For heavens sake why?" she said whispering too.

Suddenly he laughed loud guffaws. 'Because, while others think I am the amante of their dreams, your future one is waiting for you....!"

Hermione felt her face frown; she had a working knowledge of Latin, French and Italian. Her Spanish however was never cultivated.

"What... is my amante?" she asked in a curious tone.

Miguel placed the wreath back on his head, and back flipped back on to the flower, and singing like a bard, suddenly with no accent in a perfectly British tone:

"_But then you will think, which I protest I am not, that I am assisted by some wicked powers..."_

"No, _I am content to hear..."_ she found herself replying, as though the words were rehearsed in her head...

"_Hermione is innocent...the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost is not found..."_ he intoned

He leapt up and landed on a flower even farther away

"But-!"she cried after him.

"-_they only have to think they have been asleep and dreaming, and that all these adventures were visions which they saw in their sleep..._" he said swaying in beat to his sing-song.

"_Aye!" _she suddenly realized pointing at him "_for you are the one they call-!"_

a burst of light seemed to wash over her....

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Draco looked up from his drowse and held back a loud sigh of relief, as Hermione suddenly got up with a start when a beam of sunlight landed on her eyes. She gave a small whimper as a thudding pain washed over her head.

"Up then are we?" said Neville coming to sit next to her.

She nodded lightly, and winced as the pain shot through her skull...what on earth?...oh. Her face fell, and Draco snorted as the realization dawned on her face.

"You were both drugged and drunk Granger. Both states of mind which I believe you have never experienced?" he said a little acridly, and Hermione closed her eyes at what sounded like his voice ten times louder. Neville gave her a kind look, and Hermione gave him a smile as she gratefully accepted the cup of tea he offered her. They both turned startled a few seconds later as a loud bang told them that Draco had slammed the door on the way out of the resource room. Neville gave Hermione a puzzled shrug, and she just sighed.

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Draco had no idea what it was exactly that had made him snap. But when Hermione had smiled at Neville a few moments ago...

He gritted his teeth and kicked a nearby wooden barrel which skidded a few feet and startling two young boys who were poring over some Canary Creams. He breathed heavily to himself, counting in his mind to calm his temper, not wanting to end up....like he had before. Dumbledore had given him some mental exercises to help restrain that persona inside him he could not control, that had taken over him and frightened him afterward...counting was one of the simpler techniques....

He continued counting, leaning again a shelf near the resource room door. 31...32...33...34....

"Eh Draco? She up I'm guessing?" said one of the twins (Draco assumed it was Fred) clapping him on the back. He simply nodded, still mentally counting.

"Good. Neville's probably going to take care of her anyway, get the info and other stuff. He said he would take her back to the ministry anyway. Here, official opening's in an hour." Fred said, giving the two boys who guiltily shuffled away from eavesdropping. "Give us a hand. We had a massive load of Elephant Nose Hats, and well the boxes weight as much as-"

"-An elephant?" Draco interrupted in a dry tone. But, he smiled and clapped Fred back, and they walked down the hall arm in arm. He needed something to occupy his mind, and manual work like this was perfect.

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Hermione sat on the stool by the counter in her kitchen, delicately sipping the tomato juice she had bought for the first time a few hours ago. She never thought she would have to resort to drinking the most distasteful drink, but then again she never thought she would end up with a nightmare of a hangover either.

She had just arrived back from her debriefing in Neville's office, and her head had protested at every moment. But she had made a valiant effort to recall all the information she had memorized before Zachary Montero had gotten a hold of her. As she was leaving, she was startled as Draco had briskly walked in, his cloak over his arm, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal rather well sized pale biceps, his hair disheveled, a five o'clock shadow of a blond beard, and his bow tie askew, and sweating as though he had carried bales of hay on his back and ...he looked so exhilarated. He had barely given her a curt nod as he stalked into Neville's office for his own debriefing, and Hermione had apparated to the corner store, giving up on trying to figure out what had set him on edge.

"Well you _did_ slap him..." she said out loud to herself.

"Ooh...did you?" said the Monet girl from the hall, her hand delicately covering her shocked mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and chucked the drink into the sink, and went into her room. She flopped down on her bed, wondering what do to next. She was on paid leave from the ministry until Medi-Wizard classes resumed in September, and she had the unfamiliar position of having nothing to do.

Her eyes landed on a flyer that Ginny had pressed into her hands as she had left the shop yesterday (was it yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime away...). It advertised a game between the Chudley Cannons and Yorkshire Yellow jackets. Hermione shook her head with a smile. Though they had Harry as one of the number one ranked Seekers in the league, the Cannons were no better then when Ron had been enamored with them. In short, the Yorkshire players would make mincemeat of them...

The game was almost over...if she changed fast enough she might make the tail end of what was sure to be a short game.

She got up too quickly, and held her head in her hands. She let out a moan, and she heard the Monet girl make a scandalized sound. "Oh shut it!" she yelled back.

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Hermione tried not to let the sound of the boisterous Chudley fans make her head pound, but she gripped the aisle seats in pan.

"Ginny! 'Oy!"

Ginny turned around from her box seat to find the voice, as Hermione employed one of Ron's favorite phrases to get her attention. Hermione glanced at the clock and shook her head as it read:

Home: 34521 Guest: 1842

A bludger whizzed by her head as she ducked and scurried toward Ginny's seat. Ginny immediately burst out laughing.

"Well, I don't know what's so funny." Hermione said in an uptight voice. "Seeing as to how badly your husband is losing."

"First," said Ginny giggling, "he is not my husband _yet_. And second of all, _why_ are you wearing those sunglasses, it's a lovely day and not at all that sunny- oh god, do not tell me the high and mighty, I –do-not-drink-thank-you-very-much- Amazon, _Hermione _got _plastered _. At least tell me sex was part of the deal."

"_Ginny!"_ Hermione said in an appalled voice, though she didn't know why she bothered. She couldn't quite pinpoint when, but at some point in Ginny's sixth year, the outside sweetness was starting barely holding a façade over her bluntness. It was not a selling point, in Hermione's opinion, though it often made her laugh.

They stopped their discussion to cheer as Harry went by on his broom to give them both a wave as he chased after the snitch. He dove into the grass, as he caught it, but a loud collective groan came from their side of the stadium as the points revealed the real winner. Harry, got up, and brushed himself off, raised his hand to reveal the snitch, and still , even though he had lost, Hermione cheered just as loudly as the others...

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A.N- yes it is getting more serious. OOH! Who ever can tell me where the conversation b/w "Migue" and Hermione came from in her Dream sequence, you will get a mention in the story! I need both authors and the work of literature! Good luck!

Teaser- Hermione talks it out....Draco has a conversation with Dumbledore...more looms on the horizon than previously thought.

HEY! I also want (need) more reviews! Tell me how you feel!


	11. A Hex for Harry and White Roses

11.

_I won't delay too much. Thank you to Kazfiest, who both found every one of my idiotic typos (sorry for that by the way, it must make for frustrating reading...), and was able to identify one half of the literary works I quoted. They were Shakespeare's a Winter's Tale and A Midsummer Night's Dream (I have a feeling that a Winter's Tale is where J.K. Rowling got Hermione's name, since the main female lead is Queen Hermione......)If you have a working knowledge of A Midsummer Night's Dream, then you know who Miguel really is. Shh! I've already given too much away...he he._

_On the issues of typos, it just generally happens because I can't see them when I edit, it just seems fine to my eyes because what I'm "hearing" in my head matches up. I'm reeealy sorry for that, I know it's annoying when I read fics and there are glaring mistakes. Just realize I feel bad about it....later when I'm done with the story, I'll actually go back and try to re-upload everything corrected._

_Without further ado, here is chapter 11._

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Hermione clutched her purse as she waited awkwardly outside of the locker room, where Ginny had told her to wait. While she was protected behind a wooden barrier, in front of her, beyond the barrier was all the press from both the English Magical Press Association as well as the Wizarding World Press Association. Light bulbs were flashing puffs of colored smoke, and there seemed to be thousands of voices clamoring for answers from all the athletes exiting the locker-room. A few stopped to sign autographs and answer some questions, and for the most part Hermione was ignored as another fan. She nervously pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose as famous muscular men paraded past her. At any other time, she would have stopped to enjoy the moment, but she _had_ had a monster hangover from the night before, and her nerves were starting to get frayed.

She suddenly heard a roar of approval from the crowd and the flashing of the cameras reached another pitch in volume. She turned to look at the door, and her suspicions about the renewed frenzy were confirmed as she saw Harry and Ginny stroll out, hand in hand holding Harry's equipment between the two. She scurried toward them to help.

" 'Mione, don't bother! We've got it taken care of." Protested Harry as she took what looked like a heavy bag of practice snitches.

"Oh, posh. If I don't do any physical exertion I'll end up weak as a flower." She said, gritting her teeth at the weight. As they made their way along the walkway toward the port keys set up for the players the questions seemed to fire from all directions.

"Mr.Potter, how do you feel about the loss today? Any regrets?"

"Potter! Potter! Who're the groomsmen? Is it true that you have rented a fleet of dragons to pull the wedding carriage of Miss. Virginia? Please tell us! Our readers are dying to know."

"Potter, who's the lovely girl in the shades? You're new bodyguard? Are there confirmed reports of a Death Eater uprising then?"

Hermione gritted her teeth as her heightened senses alerted her to every sound, and movement. Harry stopped to go up to an eager group of reporters, and as she and Ginny stood on the path, she suddenly caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head around. She dropped her purse and the bag of snitches.

"HARRY! DUCK!" she yelled, pulling out her wand from her pant pocket. She didn't know where she got the strength, but she leapt on to Harry's body which seemed to be going down too slowly. She dimly heard Ginny shriek behind her...

She landed on Harry's much larger frame with a loud "Oof!" from him as he got the wind knocked out of his lungs. She held his arms down and felt a small sensation in the side of her waist as what seemed like a ray of white fire whizzed by grazing her but thankfully missing Harry.

There was a deafening uproar as people started to panic, running every which way, and to Hermione's disgust some reporters continued snapping pictures. She rolled off Harry, and they both rose and assumed a defensive position, ones they had learned years ago when they were Dumbledore's Army. She saw a few armed guards come rushing toward them, and she had lost sight of the short figure with an outstretched wand that had caught her eyes earlier. Damn.

She recognized the figure of Deputy Auroror Angelina Spinnett striding quickly towards them, and dropped her stance. Harry did the same, and Ginny came rushing up to him to give him a crushing hug. Her orange silk dress was rumpled, and tears dotted its elegant bodice as she held on to Harry. Poor girl, Hermione thought, she had obviously thought Harry was done for.

"Granger!" Said Angelina in a surprised tone, pocketing her own wand as the other guards declared the area clear.

"Thanks, I suppose I should start calling you "Spinnett" from now on should I?" said Hermione in a rather shaky voice, though trying to muster up some confidence.

"No! Cripes, 'Mione, you need a medic! PETER, CODE BLUE!" she said turning and shouting to an auroror with shocking green hair and an eyebrow ring. He nodded and turned to run to the nearest port key to the hospital. Hermione glanced down with a dawning realization, and saw that what she thought was a nick was actually a gash that ran around the right curve of her waist. Blood was seeping through the light blue blouse she was wearing. With the realization, a burning pain came flooding over her as her adrenaline ran out, and she doubled over with the pain.

She distantly heard Ginny give a little cry as her vision went black, and her body crumpled to the ground.

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"Ungh."

The sound that came out of Hermione's throat was not what she wanted to say. What she wanted to tell the world was that she was awake. Easy really, all she had to do was open her eyelids.

The sun from St.Mungo's skylight flooded the room giving it an ethereal glow, and Hermione moved her eyes around to see the sitting form of Albus Dumbledore on a seat next to her hospital bed.

"Ah! Miss. Granger, I see you are awake. The nurses have insisted that you will be all right, though a little sore I would imagine." He said, patting her on the shoulder. She managed to weakly nod.

"Well that's good. Here, have a bean. I find them uncommonly good, though I generally find most sweets uncommonly good." He said, handing her a cream colored _Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans_. She hesitatingly put it in her mouth, but was rewarded with the taste of a French vanilla café. Dumbledore grimaced as he tasted the black bean he had chosen.

"Ah me. Yak hair." He said. He chuckled a little. "This is quite reminiscent of a discussion I had with Mr. Potter his first year," he explained when Hermione gave him a querying look. As he turned to place the box on a nearby table along with a pile of singing cards and various boxes of sweets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and grimaced before standing up. Glancing at her waist where there was only a faint hairline scar, she had to give her seal of approval. It was a top notch sealing spell, and she had to admit only she or Murielle Smith who was head of the Medi-Wizard Guild could perform it any better . She was a little dismayed to see that her blouse, that she had spent of good amount of money on from one of Ginny's boutiques was ruined for good.

Dumbledore graciously offered his arm, and Hermione accepted it feeling like she would fall over otherwise. She finally got a look around her room, and was stunned.

Surrounding her, all around the room was bouquet after bouquet of her favorite flower. The heady smell of white roses filled the room, and she could not speak as she timidly walked over to a particularly large bunch near the window and delicately smelled them. Lovely.

"Ah yes. Many people care about you Hermione. Despite what you may feel." He said, the trademark twinkle appearing in his eyes.

"What'll happen to them when I check out?" she asked him, full well knowing the answer, being a Healer herself.

"I imagine they will be disposed of."

"Can we...can they do a delivery for me? Please?" she said almost pleading. They were too lovely. Every single blossom perfect and just bloomed. She noticed that the roses had no thorns, having been carefully clipped. Of the almost two hundred flowers, not a single one had a spike on it. She plucked out a short stemmed blossom, and held it to her heart. "Can they be delivered to the children's wing?" she asked.

"I imagine I can pull a few strings..." he with a little mirth in his voice. He patted her on the shoulder, and they walked to the front desk.

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The tea that Dumbledore handed her had a delicious scent, and Hermione was rewarded with a taste of one the finest Earl Gray teas she had ever tasted. He took a seat in his high-backed chair in the endlessly large office, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as Fawkes flew by her, touching her head with his now fully grown wings. It was the next morning, and Dumbledore had sent her a port key so that she could arrive at the Ministry without much strain.

"Now Miss. Granger. I believe I owe you an apology." Dumbledore said a little gravely.

"For what?" she said mildly surprised.

"For misjudging this situation. It seems we were much too complacent in believing that this was an easily solved situation. As you can see from yesterday, assassination before their big mission is not uncalled for. It was pure luck that you were with Virginia and Harry yesterday Hermione. Pure luck. This situation is more volatile than we had first imagined. You were hurt Hermione. True it was not fatal, but you were hurt in a situation where you should not have been."

Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"Therefore I will understand if you decide to remove yourself from the rest of this operation." He said looking at her.

She put down her cup thoughtfully. She honestly didn't know what to do. This would give her so much more peace. She could go back to concentrating on her classes, and maybe going to a few Servant meetings to gather information. Nothing more.

But yesterday....Harry and Ginny could have been killed by that hex. She had escaped with a the bare minimum of injury. And she didn't want to see her friends hurt again. They had been living under too much fear for too long. When would it end, if she didn't help?

"No, you are mistaken. I will continue with my work, most definitely."

As she hid herself behind the pretext of taking a long draught of the tea, Dumbledore suddenly grinned, and nodded his head in relief.

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"She was released yesterday morning, under my supervision."

Draco leaned back in the cushioned chair, and folded his arms thoughtfully. He had not heard the news of the assassination attempt (or 'A Hex for Harry', as the tabloids were calling it) until yesterday morning. He had nearly choked on his toast at breakfast upon the sight of a picture on the front page of Hermione rolling off of Harry's prone body, and looking behind her as Harry pulled out his wand.

Unfortunately for him, the story did not elaborate very much, except to say that neither the great Seeker Harry Potter nor his glamorous fashionista fiancée had been injured. That morning at the Ministry, all the talk had been about setting up more security precautions around Potter Manor. At about noon, he had been summoned to the Minister's office.

"Good. So she's ok then?" he said, careful to sound noncommittal.

"Quite. A little scar and some soreness. But she's under orders of strict bed rest, and should be fine as long as she is quiet for a day." Dumbledore said gently. "But now I must ask you. How is your personality?"

Draco got quiet, thinking to himself. "All right I suppose. I haven't turned fully berserker since the battle. But..."

"Yes?"

"My temper flared a little too much yesterday morning. I got it out with some physical work with the twins. However, I am inclined to think that it is more strained than usual." He said a little defeated. After ten years of barely a flare up, would the insane side of his temper finally make itself known?

"Hm, well I see no reason to be worried. You are in a high stress situation with this mission. Which leads to my next query: do you find yourself with this new development and obvious strain to you mental state, wish to continue?" Dumbledore said, a little fiercely, as though a little challenging.

Draco looked at him startled. "I will continue with my work, most definitely"

Dumbledore smiled. "As she said so eloquently only an hour ago."

"She was in the office?" Draco asked sharply. "What is she doing if she needs her bed rest?"

"Only for about thirty minutes Mr. Malfoy. She was transported with a port key. And she has devoted her free time to this cause, and has in fact offered to come in and perform a Medi-Wizard certified autopsy of the assassin."

"What?!" he said jostling his teacup. Behind him, he heard Fawkes start to squawk as he tried to use his handkerchief to blot a puddle of tea he had created on Dumbledore's fine carpet. He pushed the handkerchief into the pocket of his trousers, and continued his 'discussion'. "I thought the assassin wasn't apprehended..."

"Ah, just too quickly for the press to make a hullabaloo about it as they do most things I'm afraid. Hermione had successively averted any danger, and the Deputy Auroror, Angelina Spinett had her guard chase him down while she was procuring a medical transport for Miss. Granger. He unfortunately chose to sacrifice his life for his cause."

"He performed the Cyanide Curse I assume?" said Draco icily.

"Quite. However, we have no idea as to who he is, and frankly, an autopsy will tell us much more.

"And what can I do?" he asked, placing the cup on the enormous desk.

"Mr. Malfoy. You are an excellent field agent. I know what you do is an enormous strain already. To add this mission must add more undue stress. However, none of these provide and excuse for you behavior." Dumbledore said quietly. Draco set his jaw, but continued to listen. Dumbledore gave a quiet sigh, and continued.

"Miss. Granger is still not aware of your condition nor you occupation. She had severed any ties; though slim if any, from your school days. She had undergone sever pain and grief at the death she has witnessed, and that she is the buttress of others, while no one really supports her. The battle hit too close to home for her than she thinks it should have. And you, in her eyes are one of the reasons it happened ten years ago." He held up a hand for silence as Draco opened his mouth to protest. "And, if you want to get technical, in a very drawn out sense, you were. Therefore, if you wish to continue towards success in this mission I think you should heed some advice."

"What?" he answered through his teeth.

"A little genuine kindness. You were, and I assume bred as a gentleman. Please, treat her a little as such."

Draco curtly nodded, then got up to shake Dumbledore's hand, and then he quickly exited the room.

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Draco walked down the front steps of the Ministry, noting that the sky was a shining blue in contrast to a few days ago when he had walked out with Hermione. He whispered the words to apparate, and landed in Finnegan's Tavern and Inn.

The popular eatery was started by Seamus Finnegan a few years ago, and was thriving from the business of Diagon Alley. Draco took of his robes, and sat at the bar counter in his khaki pants and black tailored shirt and tie.

"Hello Draco. The usual?" said the Barmaid, her robes a deep blue, with the tag that said "Hi, I'm Kazfiest Corrigan. Please call me Kaz!" She was the usual server, and she knew Draco by sight, and the fact that he tipped well.

"Yeah, Kaz. Some vodka would be nice right now." He sighed.

Kaz frowned, swinging a lock of hair out of her eyes, though continuing to wipe the counter.

"Something so strong, so early in the day? Are you sure that-"

"Kaz." He interrupted "this is one of those times where you serve me alcohol, and no questions are asked."

She threw her hands up in defeat, and reached down to fill a cup with a splash of the gray liquid, and slid it in front of him. He threw the liquid to the back of his throat, not even tasting it, and slid the glass back at her, and she hesitatingly filled it again...

She shivered at Draco's malevolent smirk, as he swirled the glass in front of his eyes, before slowly sipping it without stopping. When he finished, a stray drop trailed down his throat and into the collar of his shirt. He slammed the cup down, and raised his finger in the call for more. Kaz, frowned as she filled up yet another glass full.

"Love, I think this is enough." She said firmly.

"Kaz," he said leaning towards her, already a little drunkenly, "I pay your bills, and Seamus wouldn't be happy to hear his friend was denied business."

She shook her head, putting the bottle under the counter top, and turning to call Seamus out of the back room. Draco gave the back of her figure an incredulous look, and laughed.

It started out low in his throat, and soon became extremely loud, the empty bar filled with the sound. Soon, the laughing evolved to sobs, and when Seamus hurried out from the back room and his ledger book, he found the aristocratic and refined Draco Malfoy with his head in his hands. His sobs racked the large frame of his body and the room, and all Seamus could do was pat his friend on the back.

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A.N- Wow, was that a little intense. Maybe I should tone it down a little? Well, it was the most thought out chapter I have written.

Teaser: Draco feels Hermione's pain...more shopping with a fierce fashionista...and Hermione gets down and dirty!


	12. Glass Eyes and Bridezilla

12.

_sorry for the gap, I had a lot of work to do. So here is chapter 12. (please excuse lack of scientific knowledge)_

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"Obvious trauma to the chest area. Cause: in my opinion it is from the residue of unsuccessful stunners sent by the Ministry team." Hermione quelled the urge to wipe the hair off her forehead, sweaty from her goggles. Behind her, she could hear the Quick Quill scribbling furiously to take down her oral notes. She wished she had her muggle tape recorder, she would have felt more secure.

"Transparentus." She muttered, and the skin of the cadaver before her turned a sickly clear color, exposing the muscles and bones without having to make an incision. "Transparentus." She repeated frowning, and another layer of the body went clear. She frowned and brought her scalpel down through the now jelly like layers to touch his lungs, when she felt a hand land heavily on her shoulder. She whirled around, brandishing the blade like her wand.

"We have to stop meeting like this." Said Draco, his hands up in the surrender position. He cleared his throat, and Hermione slowly lowered her arm.

"You shouldn't be in here." She said curtly, turning to complete the tiny incision. Draco turned green and covered his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting right there. Yesterday's vodka was now churning in his stomach.

He lifted a delicate handkerchief embroidered with the Malfoy Crest to his nose to block out the smell of formaldehyde and took a deep breath.

"I know." he answered, muffled. "I'm not medically regulated. But I have to be present as an official ministry presence." He said a little gruffly. Hermione wasn't listening, as she lifted a small piece of lung tissue from her scalpel and placed it on a Petri dish.

"What's that for?" he asked, his interest piqued despite the grossness of the whole situation threatening to make him sick.

"Inspection, Malfoy. Now, I would be pleased if you would allow me to continue. I need some stomach tissue and a photo of its contents to prove my point. She made another large cut in the bean shaped organ, and Draco held himself from retching as the smell of the entire contents of the stomach wafted through the air. Hermione behind her face mask was protected from the stench of the bile mixed with what looked like a green and gray fluid. She lifted the heavy Magic Cam from the floor and took three shots at different angles. She pulled the negatives out of the back, and shoved them into Draco's hand and he awkwardly waved them about as they developed. She then spooned a teaspoon of the contents into a test tube and capped it.

"What is your point?" he said, still muffled.

"Opaquenta Totalus." She said wearily, and the body instantly went back to its normal state, and she covered it with a sheet. "What did you say?"

"I asked what your point is? What are you trying to prove?"

"That this is not the assassin."

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Draco stood dumbly behind Hermione as she scrubbed her arms in the basin in the Morgue Washroom.

"I don't understand." He said finally, and held out a towel for her to wipe her arms on.

"What?"

"How do you know...? Fourteen Aurors went after this man. He wouldn't even stop when he was stunned, just kept running. He only stopped to perform the Cyanide Curse...."

"It's not him." She said, walking out of the washroom and pulling off her lab coat to reveal her light pink tweed skirt and jacket. She primly tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear, and Draco followed her into a dark room. She flicked a switch and an elaborate X-Ray machine glowed into life on the wall behind her, though a more advanced ministry version of the muggle instrument, and showed everything besides the solid structure of a body.

"First of all, you are forgetting a key fact. I was there. This body is 6ft 8, a hefty 243lbs, and 16 oz. The figure I saw was shorter than me and was much more thin, at least her arm was."

"Her?" he said, perching himself on a chair.

"Yes. The figure I saw was either one emaciated male, or more practically deduced, a female."

She flicked another switch and the slide disappeared with a loud pop, and was replaced by a cut away view of the body.

"Also, a closer view of this body's eyes is what started my suspicions in the first place." The slide seemed to zoom in on the skull and the green eyes seemed to bore into Draco's matching pair, and he shivered.

"What was in the eyes?" he asked, the Quick Quill continuing to record their conversation.

"They weren't. Eyes I mean." She pulled out a plastic bag from her skirt pocket, which contained two eyeballs. She jiggled the bag and they clinked audibly.

"Glass...?" he said a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Right. This body has no eyes. A quick look in his mouth also furthered my thoughts. He has no tongue."

"So...he's a ..."

"Living Cadaver. Or _was_ at any rate. He didn't perform a Cyanide Curse, he simply dropped after his spell had run out. I'll perform the test on his lung tissue, and guarantee you there is no oxygenated blood. He never breaths. And his stomach contains nothing but bile and acid. He hasn't eaten in years I'll wager." She said with a sigh. "We were duped. The assassin left behind an Animated Living Cadaver, probably with a Performance Spell, and escaped. She's still out there."

"I'll have to report this to Neville." Draco said, getting up to quickly and his head pounded in protest. He was a large man, but his drinking binge yesterday was starting to wear him down.

"And I'll finish up this report." She said, clapping her hands, and the Quick Quill immediately flopped down.

There was an awkward moment of silence, with neither one looking at each other.

"Well, I'll be going then." He said, clearing his throat consciously.

"And I'll, you know...be finishing up the official report. I need to stay to..."

"Good." He said shortly, and he abruptly swirled his robes and left the room.

Hermione closed her eyes. The tension was tangible, and she wondered what she would say when they were alone in a room together again. She shivered to let go of the feeling that he was going her murder her in cold blood himself.

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She stared at the window, tired and wondering how much more Ginny was going to spend. The amount of galleons Ginny had in her purse had stunned both Hermione and Lavender that morning.

"You're going to spend all that." Lavender had said deadpan. It was a statement and not a question, which from normally gossipy Lavender was an event.

"Yes."

"On a gown." Hermione had said equally as deadpan.

"Of course."

"Not the food. Nor the flowers."

"No."

"The dress." Continued Lavender.

They had looked at each other and shook their heads. "That's what you get when you have two of the richest people in the world joining in holy matrimony." Lavender had said in a rueful voice.

"Quite." Hermione had answered, and Ginny had let out a noise of annoyance. Now they were in _Belinda's Magical Bridal Shoppe_ and it was the sixth store that they had been through with Ginny not liking a single one.

"No! I look so disgusting! Harry will run if he sees me!" Ginny almost sobbed, rushing back into the dressing room in what Hermione thought was a rather elegant simple strapless gown with simple beads on the skirt edge and a thin cord of gray silk around the high waist.

Lavender came up to where Hermione was sitting with her _Witch Weekly_.

"That's it. I give up. You have to help. She's acting like she's pregnant, or in menopause, which I can assure she is not going through."

"She's probably still moody from the attack. She's under a lot of tension, what with the constant guard and all." Hermione had sighed, jerking her thumb to point at the same green haired and ringed Auror, Peter, the auror who had gone for help during the assassination attempt, standing outside the boutique's door. He was desperately trying to look nonchalant, but it was hard when he was a man who was tagging along behind three women who were shopping in a high fashion district of Diagon Alley. He looked as though he would be happier with the likes of Charlie Weasly, and his other pierced and tattooed friends. The fact that Ginny had insisted he carry their purses if he was going to make himself a little useful as their bodyguard wasn't helping his ego any either. He shot a murderous glance as two girls passed by him giggling.

She got up, and tentatively knocked in the dressing room door. "Ginny? Are you all-"

"I'm fine." She snapped, and the door abruptly opened. She looked fierce.

'Well can you please-?"

"Well if I could get this dress off, it would help." She said a little sarcastically, and Hermione obliged by yanking half heartedly at the stuck zipper. Finally she just ripped it, and used her wand to repair it.

"Reparo."

"Now, Ginny, you must choose. Shlip!" she said making the cutting motion across her throat to signal quiet as Ginny opened her mouth to protest. "Now, Lavender has taken a day off from the Catering Business, and I have out aside some pressing ministry work for you. You have dragged us all over Diagon Alley, and frankly we are getting tired of it. You, Virginia Weasly, are turning into a-"

"No! Don't say it!" Ginny protested half laughing.

"A Bridezilla. Utterly useless. Now, you have at least three gowns here that would look lovely on you. Pick one. Now." Hermione said, shutting the door on Ginny's shocked face.

"Now see, if I had tried that, she would have hexed me." Said Lavender conversationally.

"And I would have hexed her back." Hermione replied, sitting down to finish the article she was reading.

Lavender shook her head, and went to hang up the thirteen other gowns that Ginny had rejected. Ginny may be a firecracker, she thought, but Hermione was the Queen of Ice.

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They walked out of the boutique, after Ginny had agonized for another hour. Ginny and Lavender were a few paces ahead, gossiping, while Hermione walked behind them thinking to herself. It had been a few days since she had met with Draco in the Morgue. She had not heard from him since, Neville only told her that he would be back from some business after a week's time.

The report had been filed, but nothing could proceed until Draco came back, and the case was stalled. What ever could he be doing?

"It better be damned important." She muttered to herself.

"What was that?" asked Peter, walking next to her.

"Oh nothing. I suppose you know Malfoy?" she said, turning to the bodyguard, realizing she could get some information from a knowledgeable source.

"Dragon? He doesn't like that, but we call 'im it anyway." Peter said laughing lightly.

"I would imagine. You wouldn't know where he is right now?"

"Holding up your case? He's done that often enough. Usually he's getting' information, or he's taking a break to hold back the berserk."

Hermione stopped walking abruptly. "Berserk?"

"Yeah, you dinnint know? I thought you were the smartest witch of all time..." he said nudging her with his elbow.

"This generation. What don't I know?" she said her mind working furiously.

"He's got Berserker blood. You know those ancient warriors who would go mad with Battle Fury? They couldn't hear, see , or think straight til what they wanted dead was dead. Well, Dragon's got that in him. He went mad at the Final Battle. Now he goes to Dumbledore to curb it."

Hermione stared at Peter, who looked back at her expectantly.

"Peter, would you mind meeting me at _Madame Rosmerta's Bistro _tomorrow? At say 9 o'clock?"

"Why sure. I haven't had female contact in about three months." He said grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. Hermione was strongly reminded of Fred and George Weasly.

"Don't get your hopes up." She said smiling. "I just want to talk. About our friend Dragon."

He shrugged. "Sure."

They continued walking to catch up to Ginny and Lavender, but Hermione's mind was already off cakes and dresses, and the gears in her mind were turning and wondering about one man. Draco Malfoy.

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A.N..- yes that was short. It was another more informational chapter, but the next one will contain more drama than CSI.

Teaser- Peter spills his guts.....Hermione and Draco get some news....and it's time to start the big plan....


	13. Glitter Paint and Throttling

13.

_I love all the reviews! _

_To answer the question: I would be lying if I said that I have not been inspired by the Abhorsen Series, for the inspiration to create Draco's Berserker side. But, I am definitely not copying it. It manifests differently in Draco, you'll see. The idea of a Berserker always intrigued me, it was thought to create the perfect warrior in many cultures, and I love the idea of writing from that point of view._

_**Warning:** the R rating is now going to make itself useful. Meaning there is going to be some sexiness. Notice I didn't say sex. But some gratuitous flesh might make an appearance…maybe… . ;_

_Here's chapter 13. Hope it's not unlucky or anything… . _

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Hermione nervously stirred the red straw in her strawberry seltzer, and checked her watch. It was 9:45, and Peter was late. Not that she was all that surprised, but she was on edge because a small part of her (could it be her guilty conscience?) was telling her that this was wrong.

"No. I have a right to know." She thought, stabbing the garnish on her glass, the strawberry impaled right through the center.

"You do 'at to all your dates?" said Peter, sliding into the other wicker chair, his hair disheveled (or styled depending on how you looked at it), and a blue metal stud replacing his usual steel eyebrow ring. He looked as though he had just woken up, and he said so himself.

"Forgot to set me alarm. Sorry 'bout that." He said rather sheepishly, running his hand through his hair.

"I think your roots are coming in." she said a little amused. She didn't understand why, but Peter's type, though so unlike her usual prim and proper self, often ended up becoming fast friends with her. Case in point: Fred and George.

"Is it? Fuck." He said frowning and leaning over the chair to peer in the front window of the café to frown at the brown roots coming through his scalp in his reflection.

"Now, what would you like for brunch?" she cut off Peter's protest "I'm forcing this out of you, so I should be paying."

"I guess it's not 'at chivalrous 'o me, but I could use a Strong Butter Beer."

Hermione quietly told the house-elf waiting by to bring a tall glass of the Alcoholic form of the drink that she, Ron, and Harry had enjoyed so much in their youth.

As he took a long gulp of the stuff, and then gave a contented grunt, she continued to swirl her drink.

"I've got to tell you. You might not like some of what you 'ear." He said, "I was only a firs' year when the battle happened, so you probably don' 'member me much." He said, giving her a crooked but charming grin. Hermione suddenly recalled a memory, seeing that odd smile…

"_You realize I will have to dock about fifty points from Gryffindor for this?" she had said, with an air of exasperation that was rather like McGonagall._

"_But, we was only-"the lanky, brown haired first year protested, but Hermione had cut him off. _

"_Do not tell me that I was imagining things."_

"_But, you should probably get out 'o-"_

"_You-were-dangling-the- main hall- chandelier-out – of – the –astronomy- tower." She said slowly as though to a two year old. "And your friend here," she said pointing "has a green horn growing out of his head. You were certainly not "only" doing anything." _

_Suddenly Peeves had swooped out of nowhere, and dumped and entire bucket of what appeared to be a sparkling blue paint on her. As she shrieked, the boy had meekly said,_

"_I tried t'tell you, but we was going t'dump that next, and Peeves was gonna be here any second…"_

Hermione put down her drink. "That paint, took three charms to get out you should know." She said matter of factly.

"Aye, anit took about a hundred points from us too, dinnit it?" he said guffawing loudly. "I knew you'd member me 'ventually."

"Well, Peter, as I recall, you were going to tell me some things. Even if I don't want to hear it." She said firmly.

"Well, guess I should start from the beginning then, shouldn't I?" he said, taking another swig directly from the bottle.

"Let's see, where t'begin. Well, you know at the battle, Voldemort was locked in battle with Harry. You were there in the Hollow with em and Weasly. But at 'Ogwarts, there was still a few hundred Death Eaters tryin to find a way to destroy the school. An Dragon, he was in the Forbidden Forest. Lucious had asked 'im to go and destroy it, burn it up if he had to. There were haunts and glims in there, that wouldn't even help Voldemort. And it held a sort of wild magic that no one could really control now."

"So why didn't he?" she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper.

"Who knows? People says that it was because his dad was 'busin him. The official report says "Change of Alliance." What 'e told me was, that he suddenly saw everyone he knew who 'ad died stand in front of im. Silvery ghosts he said, they all just came when he stepped into the forest border." Hermione felt her blood run cold. She knew that Harry had told her of something similar happening when he had fought Voldemort wand to wand the first time.

"His friends, all those muggles 'is father made him watch die. They all just stood there, and looked at him. He got right scared. That's when his mind went blank."

"And that…Berserker side…"

"Took over, aye. Can you 'magine? All those Death Eaters suddenly fleeing at the sight of a boy, with a whole fleet of centaurs behind 'im?"

"what?" she said startled.

"Yeah. There was something about the centaur nature. He was somehow affected with it, it made him go berserk all right. But it also made 'im strong. I 'member watching out of the 'Stronomy tower. He said somethin', really loud. And without a wand, he made a whole troop of 'em Eaters fall down like they were just toys in a wave. He killed everyone one 'o em. And what he dinnit strike down, the Centaurs took care of. 'O course, with their outside flanks gone, the one 'o the Eaters nside the buildin started to run. But the thing is, not a single one 'o em realized it was 'im. 'Cept for his father."

"Lucious." She hissed, her memories of the man causing bile to almost rise in the back of her throat.

"Aye." Peter intoned darkly. "And somethin' happened that night 'tween those two. Draco won't tell me 'o course. But you know, no one's-"

"-Heard from Lucious Malfoy since." She whispered, chilled by the implication.

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Hermione pulled on her lab coat, and hissed as the pain in her waist abruptly flared when she twisted it to put her arm through a sleeve. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and picked up the briefing file on the lab table of the morgue.

_To: Hermione Granger_

_Re: New Evidence_

_Yesterday afternoon, the evidence acquired at the scene of the crime was released, and is now ready for thorough forensics investigation. Good luck._

_N. Longbottem._

She sighed, picking up the large plastic bag. Inside was a long wand, that appeared to have burned at the tip, the robes of the Cadaver, and a notebook.

She snapped her rubber glove off, and first leafed through the notebook. Nothing was written in it, but she placed it in it's own bag just in case. She placed the robe in a chemical treatment bath. She then pulled out the wand. She frowned, as she recognized as a one time use, the kind that was only good for a spell or two since it was not personalized like most wands. The burn pattern was intriguing. She decided to give a call to the Wand and Magical Instruments Department….

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"It appears that the entire magical contents of the wand were used up in the single hex." Hermione said loudly, the Quill scratching away behind her. " I will now go about conducting the test to prove this theory, and relay the results." The Quill promptly stopped in mid-sentence, and stood at the ready to record the results.

She held a newly bought Disposible Wand in her hand. According to the Head of the Wand and Magical Instruments Department, each wand had it's own burn pattern from the spell performed. In order to prove that the wand seized was the one that had hit her, she would have to re-perform a similar type of hex.

"Hello Granger."

Hermione felt her breath catch and she quickly turned around to see Draco standing in the doorway once again.

Leaning in the doorway.

Again.

This was getting annoying.

"I suppose it would be beyond you to apologize." She snapped, and she turned back to the task at hand.

"For what?" Draco asked, genuinely surprised at the venom in Hermione's voice.

"Oh. Right. Disappear for a week. Leave me with the remnants of a case that can't go anywhere because of your absence. Leave me with the task of figuring out who this bloody git is who has managed to escape us. And now I have to figure out this bloody wand, and how I can test it." She said angrily throwing it on the steel tray.

"What wand?" he asked, frowning. Hermione held back the urge to scream, as he seemed to digest nothing of what she had said but about the wand.

"The assassin's wand. The evidence was just released. Which you would know, if you were here."

"Evidence was realeased? Good. That means we can start planning out this sting with the declassified information."

" Anyway, what about the one you've got?" he said gesturing with his chin, his hands in his pocket. It was in looking at the pockets of the shirt, that Hermione realized that he had not changed his clothes since the last time she had seen him. He was wearing the same gray pinstriped shirt, the collar loosened and the tie gone. His cuffs were unbuttoned and shoved up his thick arms, and his trousers were wrinkled. A few days growth of stubble was creeping up his throat, and his eyes were bloodshot. She wrinkled her nose as she realized that he now smelled like day old sweat.

"What?" he said crossly, seeing her expression.

"Nothing." She quickly answered, averting her eyes. She looked back at the hands in the pockets, and frowned again. Were they….yes. They were trembling. Very imperceptibly, but they were.

"Draco." She said firmly. She put all the strength she could muster into that command.

"What?" he said irritatingly.

"Now, see, variety of the diction is what is key to a conversation Malfoy." She retorted, her nerves starting to fray, and she was also (dare she think it?) a little frightened. "Malfoy, when was the last time you were home?"

He snapped his head down to look at her eyes, and she gazed right back. They stared at each other with an icy intensity, neither one backing down. A timer pinged in the background, and Hermione tore her gaze away to go take a look at the chemical bath, and to turn off the timer.

"Just as I thought. Nothing." She sighed.

"What were you expecting?" he asked with a sort of croak.

"At least some ash residue from the wand. But even that's been wiped clean." She said crossly. He nodded, and suddenly gripped his head with his hands.

"_32…33...34…" _he whispered, rocking back and forth. Hermione dropped the wand she had borrowed in the chemical bath, and raced towards him.

"Draco…Draco…what's wrong?" she said, unable to keep a note of fear out of her voice.

"I cant…..36…37….I can't…38…" his voice cracked as he tried to speak, he suddenly lifted his head out of his hands, and stared at her with a vicious look on his face. His eyes, usually icy gray , were ringed with red, his breath was coming out ragged. His mouth was curled into a sneer that made him look like he was going to start snarling.

Hermione slowly backed up, still keeping eye contact, and she dimly realized that the ragged gasps she was hearing were her own. Her back made a sudden contact with the wall of the morgue room, and she realized she was literally backed into a corner.

Draco's sneer seemed to deepen, and suddenly she felt her throat tighten, as his large hands shot out and wrapped them around her throat.

"Dra…h…" she gasped desperately for air, her hands clawing and pawing at his frame, as everything seemed to be turning white. She dimly heard a rip as she managed to snag the whole row of buttons on his shirt, and exposing his chest. As a last ditch effort, she dug her nails (newly French manicured at that…) into his pectoral muscles.

With a mangled cry of pain, he let her go, and she slid down the wall, her eyes closed glad for the air she was now gulping.

They both were breathing hard, and when she opened her eyes, she could see that he was curled on the floor, in a sort of fetal position, ten little moon shaped marks in his now bruising chest, and incredibly…snoring.

Hermione shakily got up, and hesitantly touched his shoulder. He was in a deep sleep. She was a medi-wizard, and knew it was probably best that he sleep off whatever craze he had just gone through. Pulling out her wand, she whispered a few words of a healing spell toward his chest. She took hold of his arms, and with some sweat inducing effort, managed to drag him toward an upholstered chair and lean his torso in a half sitting position on it. She covered him with her lab coat, and leaned exhausted on the lab table.

What would she do?

What _could _she do?

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An hour later, Draco opened his eyes, only to see a haze in front of him. He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared. His mind seemed to be all a blur, he got up from the position he was in, and groaned at the sudden pain in his chest…wait…his chest?

He looked down, as a white lab coat floated off his now standing body, to see his shirt devoid off all its buttons. He ran his fingers over the odd marks that seemed to appear on his chest, ten half moon marks, made up off shiny scar tissue. They felt slightly tender to the touch. He frowned and looked around him. What was he doing in the morgue?

He felt a stab of fear, as he saw Hermione, slumped over the lab table fast asleep. What had he done?

He covered her with the lab coat, and clutched the ends of his shirt closed. For a long time, he stared at her form. Her shoulders raised and lowered as she slept off her exhaustion and stress, blissfully unaware of the man standing only a foot away from her. Leaning over, he gave a slow peck on the cheek. He stood up slowly, gave her one last look and rushing out the door.

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A.N.- somehow, that didn't come out how I wanted… . ;

Tell me what you think….

Teaser: Where _has_ he been all week?...and what will happen to a strained relationship?


	14. Taupe Walls and Tears

14.

_Sorry. Lots of stuff to do. Especially school. -.-; This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but I wanted to place the cliffhanger where I did. If that made any sense. Which it didn't._

_Whatever._

_Without any further delay, here it is._

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Draco started as he heard what sounded like a cat sneezing. He turned to see Fawkes once again chirping sharply as he sat in a pile of feathers, a layer of red down covering his body. He sighed, and turned back in the arm chair in Dumbledore's office. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and willed it to still.

"So, Mr. Malfoy, I understand that you simply left her there?"

"Yes. Not much I could do. Damn it." He said sighing, holding his head in his hands.

"So the day you spent visiting your Manor, as you told me originally you were going to do…."

"- Did not go well." He finished. "Mother's dementia is getting worse day by day. She still thinks father is alive, of course. Somehow though, she's able to understand my part in the whole mess. And she hates me for it. And she's still capable of magic, so the house was almost in ruins by the time I left"

"I understand. However, I am also interested in the result of your week long disappearance after that. We have all been concerned. This case has not been able to go forward without you. And it appears that you have been carousing with the centaurs in the woods for a good week." Dumbledore stated this simply, but his eyes held a questioning glance. Silence filled the room.

"Mr. Malfoy. I take that indeed you did spent the week in the Forbidden Forest."

"Yes." He answered gruffly. "I –I couldn't help it. I h-h-had to." He said slurring his words, as his mind remembered the days he had allowed his berserker side to take over, and simply run wild. He had only meant to explore the woods after a tour of the wing he was sponsoring to build at Hogwarts, see how Grawp was doing perhaps, when he had felt his blood pressure rise…

He had awoken what felt like a few seconds later, curled up on a rock, next to a slumbering group of centaurs and maenads. He had crept off, wondering exactly how long he had run wild. Inside, he knew that Grawp was just an excuse for the real wild inclination that had overtaken his thoughts. He wasn't sure what had triggered in these past few weeks. But he now knew that Hermione Granger had a large part to do with it.

"I don't think I should continue with this. Granger's got enough expertise. She can just use a reconnaissance t-t-t-team and m-m-maybe-"suddenly he felt a soothing warmness flow over his body, and his muscles unclenched. He felt his eyes focus and the foggy haze in his mind lifted.

He stared at Dumbledore who opened his eyes from performing the spell, and felt a flood of shame overwhelm him. It was useless. In the past three weeks, a control he had been able to maintain for ten whole years was now gone. He had let the wild side control him instead of the other way around, and Dumbledore had had to perform a spell to keep him focused.

"Mr. Malfoy, I asked you before if you wanted to continue. You gave me your full support. And I as an administrator and as Minister of Magic feel that you are still the best person for the job-"he held up a hand to stop Draco from interrupting. "I think we can find a way to get you back in shape. However, as Minister it is my duty –"

"-No!"

"It is my duty," Dumbledore continued despite Draco's protest "that you spend a few days in rehabilitation at St. Mungo's. You will be transported there from your home this evening." He continued, writing down the order, and the parchment rolled up and shot through the air to deliver itself.

"The wedding is not for another two weeks. We cannot destroy this part of your nature. But we can help you in the struggle to control it, Draco." Dumbledore said quietly.

Draco angrily pushed himself out of the chair, and angrily stalked down the hall ignoring the stares at appearance, his shirt and chest mauled. When he reached the entrance to the Ministry, he apparated back to his own luxurious apartment over looking Diagon Alley.

He immediately reached for the large decanter of Fire Whiskey and poured himself a generous glass of the amber liquid, and took a deep swig. A quick look around the apartment made him wince. The living room was a mess, from last week when he had gone through another fit before leaving for his visit. The table lamp had been smashed against the wall, and the sofa cushion ripped to shreds. As the Whiskey fizzed in his stomach, a cold sweat break out and he felt Dumbledore's healing spell slip. He slumped on the ravaged sofa, and waited for the clock to strike 4, so that the hospital bus would come and get him.

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Hermione dabbed the washcloth at her neck, but it was useless. She sighed as she ran the cloth under the cold running water and wondered what she would do about the dark imprints around her throat. She had healed the worst of the bruises, but there were still some dark marks on the left base of her throat and neck, and they would have to heal on their own.

She padded into the kitchen, and sipped some of her tea as she got ready to head back to her work after her month long leave. Though devoted to teaching others her own skill, she was apprehensive of going back to the Psychiatric & Other Mental Maladies Ward after such a long time. The other medi wizards and nurses never really liked her because of her aloofness and tartness when it came to her work demeanor. She did not stand for any laziness of slack amongst her students, and thus had earned the moniker of "Danger Granger" for being harsh on students who took the Psych ward as an "easy" area to work in. When would people learn that those who were in such a place were not there by choice, and needed just as much care as anyone else?

Not to say that she didn't have her kind side, but the majority of her fellow workers were not dedicated to their work as she was and was of course frustrated. Still, there was always Parvati Patel in the Magical Maladies Ward, and Neville sometimes came by to hand her briefs and give her a friendly visit (though she had the feeling that it was more for a visit to see the hottest nurse in the Magical Maladies Ward).

She abruptly dropped her teacup with a smash.

Her heart was racing. She could have sworn that she saw the reflection of...no it couldn't be. She could have sworn Miguel's face was reflected in the stove window a moment ago….

She stepped closer to the stove, and gave a little laugh at the state of her own sanity.

"I'll have to check myself in to the ward at this rate." She whispered to herself as she cleaned off the mess.

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"Um, Dr.Granger, Dylan McMantish says he thinks he's starting to hallucinate again. But the nurse can't find anything wrong with his doses." A nervous student asked her, handing her the patient's chart. She quickly scanned it, and instructed the grateful student to increase the dragon's heart ivy powder.

The hospital was usually chaotic with the most bizarre maladies crowding the ER, but in her ward, the halls were a deathly quiet. The walls were painted a soothing taupe color, and no paintings or other ornaments on the walls to distract the more unbalances patients.

She picked up her charts for the day, and headed to the first room where she checked on a patient who had fallen of her broom in the middle of a gale last summer, and hadn't quite mentally recovered since.

"Now, Letita. How are the dreams?" she asked in cheerful voice.

"A little better. But…I keep thinking I'm seeing him."

"Your husband?" Hermione asked quietly. Letita Turner and her husband had gone out for an anniversary celebration when a severe storm abruptly appeared as they were flying home. Letita had landed on a shipment of vegetables in the back of a muggle farmer's lorry. Her husband had not been as nearly as lucky, falling to his death along the rocks of the nearby lake.

"Well, you aren't nearly in a bad shape as you were when you came in. I'm sure that you can be realeased within a week. But you must promise to attend the therapy sessions I'm going to assign you." She said sternly, but with some gentleness. Letita had a young three year old son at home, who was surely missing her.

"Oh…thank you! Thank you! I…I'll go, just... oh dearie, you don't know how much you've helped me." she said, and to Hermione's embarrassment, started crying with relief.

"Oh, Dr. Granger, you've helped me so much. If you have someone you love, you make sure you savor every moment. You never know if you'll lose him." She said ruefully shaking her head. Hermione patted her on the back, and left the room. Once she reached the hallway, she collapsed on a sofa, and felt a few tears creep down her cheek and into the hollow of her throat.

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Draco watched from his window. Somehow, in the drug induced haze, he knew he wanted to hold her, and not make her cry anymore. He traced one long finger on the window around her face, and suddenly he felt his body jerked back.

He was spun around, and he faced the figure of Ferenz stood in front of him, holding him by the shoulder.

"Draco. Now. You should change now."

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A.N.- Well, as usual, review and tell me what you like/liked. It helps me.

Teaser- Hermione has to help Draco…or it could be the end…


	15. Tears and Kisses

15.

_Um, I'm really sorry about miss-naming Ginny. Except I'm too lazy to go back and find all the times I've done that. So from now on she will be: Ginny. Ok? Also, when I was thinking about any other mistakes I may have done, I realized I said that Draco's eyes are green, and I'm pretty sure they're grey. (or are they blue…? GAHHH!!!!) So I'll refer to that fact corrected, that they're grey._

_Also, I want people to understand that the reason Hermione is unstable emotionally is because she has kind of been left out in the dust. (I'll be getting into it more and more in the later chapters as I go on..) She is always the support, the strong one, the knowledgeable one. People always go to _her _for advice (Ron asking how to propose, Neville asking her to the ball, her students...etc.). She knows that they mean well, but they've all gone on with their lives in relief that Voldemort is gone, but haven't considered that the "strong one" may not be as strong as she seems. When Draco starts to slip up mentally, they kind of make a matching pair. I guess._

_Also, someone pointed out that Hermione would not technically be known as a "doctor"or a "medi-wizard"(something I made up for my own purposes by the way). For the sake of my sanity, and the story, let's all agree to pretend that wizards have an equivalent to an MD. Ok? -.-;_

_Oh. And something nice happens in this chapter, kind of.…blush_

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Draco stared at the image of the palomino centaur before him.

"You're not real. I'm hallucinating again." He said calmly, though his voice cracked. He padded over to his bed, and sat down on it with a loud noise, his hospital gown scratching his bare bottom and back.

"On the contrary Young Lord Malfoy. I am very much indeed here. The stars told me that I would need to be present to help you." Firenze said not moving, and crossing his arms over his bare muscled chest.

"Did the sodding stars tell you that I would be lying here on all these damned drugs and half out of my mind with these damn dreams, practically insane, and full of these urges to …do the wrong thing."

"It is strange Young Lord. How a person's character may suddenly change." The centaur said quietly in his dreamy tone, cocking his head to the side. "At some point, many people may want to do "the wrong thing". What is wrong feels too pleasurable to be an evil. And then, something happens to snap the mind." He said straightening his head once again. "And you are human, thus a more delicate and fragile mind-"

"I almost killed her." Draco said interrupting the centaur's talk. Firenze squinted his eyes, and seemed to be looking at the ceiling. Draco knew from experience that the centaur was seeing the stars and consulting their wisdom. He sighed out loud.

"Yes. It appears you almost did. But you didn't. Why?" Firenze finally asked quietly, opening his eyes.

"I can't really remember. But I think I almost strangled her. She's got some ligature marks on her throat." He answered dully.

"Ah." Firenze suddenly said. And he did something that he had never seen him do before. Firenze grinned.

"You will be all right. But only if you change."

"NO! I can't!-"

"You misunderstand. Do not worry. You will know when."

Draco felt his vision blur. He angrily wiped off a tear, and when his vision cleared, he could see that Firenze was gone.

"Oh, I am insane." He whispered to himself. He started lowly laughing, and increased in volume until a nurse came into give him another shot of Mugwump Essence to calm him down.

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Hermione dropped the clipboard on the front desk, and thankfully grabbed a cup of pumpkin juice was sitting on the snack tray in the lounge. She was dead tired, and for some reason she felt empty. She had been able to release all but one patient, a boy who had set his broom on fire, but even he was making good progress. So why was she so melancholy?

She dropped herself onto the same couch in the hallway, and held the cup thoughtfully. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. Not wanting to explain her self to a passing nurse or one of her students. She took a few breaths to calm herself.

She was nervous as hell. Dumbledore had called her into his office last night, to explain that he knew what had happened, and that Draco would be taken care of properly. When he was finally cured, they could finish their sting operation. Until then, she, Fred and George (sad yet funny, she could only think of them as one unit) and Neville would be setting up a sting operation plan for the wedding. But that was weeks away. And her mind was in riot, and she felt empty inside. She was a mental health medi-wizard, and recognized the first signs of depression when she felt them.

"Get a hold of yourself." She sighed, finishing the drink, and throwing it in the nearby trash bin.

As she got up, she stopped suddenly, and squinted at the observation window in front of her. She realized who the patient was, and felt herself get cold. She strode forward, opened the door and simply stared at the patient. She felt the blood drain from her face, and crept quietly into the room.

She stood dumbfounded. This was what he had meant by being taken care of? She lifted the chart from the front of the bed, and gasped. Three dosages of Mugwump Essence in the past day alone.

"Draco. What is going on with you?" she whispered

She let out a small scream, when his grey eyes suddenly shot open.

She stumbled back a little, but she crept a little closer when she realized that his glassy eyes showed he was still literally high on his drugs.

"Draco?" she cleared her throat and asked him again. "Draco? Are you feeling all right? I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were in here. I'm sorry I-"

"Stop apologizing." He said in an oddly quiet, but drug slurred voice. Hermione petered off, and stood awkwardly wondering whether she should inform the others of where he was. But Dumbledore may have wanted him to remain in the hospital without any disturbances. Confused as to what she should do, she gave a sigh of frustration.

Slowly, he lifted an arm up, one that had endless pricks from the needle, and hesitatingly, she walked toward his prone body. Mugwump Essence tended to make patients groggy and their thoughts muddled. He suddenly grabbed her hand, and she gave a gasp of surprise.

"You don't have to worry anymore. Not anymore. Not anymore." He said in a croaky sing song voice. He ran a finger in circles over her palm, and around the top of her hand.

Spreading her fingers, Hermione caught her breath as he pressed his much larger palm to hers. His skin was deathly pale, even for a member of the Malfoy clan. She couldn't help herself from staring fascinated at the green-blue veins that ran over the strong bones in his hand. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Draco…you have to let go" she whispered in as a soothing voice as she could muster. She didn't want him to slip into one of his rages. Nervously she shifted her weight to walk away, when suddenly the hand he pressed against hers grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply forward. She fell into a sitting position on the bed, her body leaning forward. A few gingery brown strands of hair wisped around her chin as they escaped her twist from the motion. Her heart was in her throat. Should she call for a nurse…?

"Don't." he said a little more firmly, still whispering. "Don't talk. Don't apologize." He said. His eyes still had the glazed look, and she was a little frightened. He turned her wrist over, and traced a vein that ran down her arm from the pulse point with long finger. She nervously held still, not wanting to make any sudden movements.

"See, here…" he said rubbing the inner wrist where her normally peach toned skin was just as white as his. "Here, we're the same. The same skin. The same hue, blood wanting blood…"

She tried to pull herself up, but he was strong, and held her in an iron grip. He pulled her back into the half leaning position.

"I want yours. The blood. The tears. I want it all." He said staring into her eyes. Hermione felt herself go cold at the words. His eyes were frightening, a hard icy gray.

As she leaned over to push the call button for the nurse on duty, Draco suddenly placed his hand on the back of her head, dipped it towards him, and kissed her.

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A.N.- MWAHAHHAHAHA!!! Who was expecting THAT?!?!?

Ok, all you probably were.

And excuse me, but I'm no good at "love" scenes myself. I hate when it's all melodramatic or over done. (ie. "their tongues intertwined..…their lips were seared in heat….blahblahblah")

Tell me what you think. And the plot WILL go forward, I promise…-.-;

Teaser- consequences….and planning reaches a head….


	16. Elephants and Attraction

16.

_E.C. Johnson- I'm doriansportrait after the excellent author Oscar Wilde's book, The Picture of Dorian Gray, the subject of many film interpretations. If that makes me any cooler, that great by me!_

_After a rather long hiatus, I type again. Cool._

The only thing running through Hermione's head was how strange it felt. But all right. It was intangible, and illicit feeling that was so pleasurable. She closed her eyes.

Suddenly, her brain seemed to catch up to her, and a tense feeling welled up into her chest. With a gasp, she broke her lips from contact, and scrambled backwards, away from Draco's confused face. His eyes rolled, and he closed them with a contented sigh.

Hermione rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, and rushed outside the room. She leaned against the hallway wall.

"Not like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Hermione wasn't naïve, but she knew that it wasn't the way she had envisioned it. At all. Her first kiss wasn't supposed to be with a high, doped up, man she loathed. And yet, it was done.

She collapsed onto the bench, and stared into the room at the man who was so strange, so crafty, and so ill. And she finally broke down.

Draco awoke. Slowly, his head pounding, he opened his eyes a crack, and groaned.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy. It seems like you're stable. You may go back home and to work as soon as the Minister gives his approval. Here is a bottle of the extract if you should feel yourself slipping, but no more than two doses in twenty-four hour period" The exotic figure of Parvati said. Funny, he couldn't seem to lift his eyes above her chest…

"Mr. Malfoy. My face is above that level." She said crisply.

"And if you didn't use such illicit Attraction Potions, it wouldn't be a problem for me." he said with a raspy chuckle. Parvati snapped her clipboard shut with a huff, and stalked out of the room.

"Hit to close to the truth, did I?" He groaned even louder, with no one to hear him, and ripped the monitor off his bicep. It chirped once or twice, and then went quiet, and he tossed the round bit of magical machinery into the trash bin. He came out of the bathroom a few moments later, dressed in the trousers and shirt he had come in with a week ago, his black silk tie slung around his neck untied. Whistling a little, he tossed the bottle of drugs in the air, and pocketed it.

He stepped into the quiet halls, and strolled down to the reception desk, to sign his release papers. Scrawling his signature, he suddenly heard a fast staccato of heeled steps coming down the quiet hall. Looking up, he tried not to smirk as he greeted her.

"Hey. Hermione. Fancy seeing-" He broke off, a rather confused frown on his face as Hermione swept right by him, her face stony and resolute. She continued right down the hall and took a turn to another wing.

"Huh. Suppose she's mad about something else. Barmy girl" He said out loud.

"Oh. Are you and Dr. Granger good friends?" asked the perky Medi-Wizard student behind the desk serving her share of receptionist's duty. He shoved the parchment at the petite girl, and started to knot his tie.

"I suppose you could say that." He gruffed. "If the planets realigned themselves, and the time space continuum stopped, we would probably be the best of mates." He said giving her his coy best smile and a wink, Whistling, he left in the same direction that Hermione had gone a moment earlier.

"wow." The receptionist breathed.

Hermione stopped, and stifled a sob.

"Doctor? Doctor? You 'k?" asked the tiny voice of a young blonde toddler, tugging on her lab coat. She was under evaluation in the children's wing. She had been abused by her older uncle, and was undergoing therapy to help her become a functioning young girl again. She had grown rather attached to Hermione, and was often right next to her like a shadow when she went through the wing. But this part of the Psychiatric Ward was no place for a young child.

"Mary! What are you doing out of your area?" she said gently, picking up the four year old to eye level.

"You look sad. And I was bored. There weren't any good toys. And Bertie took my Elephant Nose Hat." She said petulantly. Laughing lightly, Hermione turned around to head towards the Children's Wing. Only to come face to face with a swath torso covered in grey silk.

She quickly tried to sidestep to the right of the tall figure to pass him without any eye contact, but he sidestepped in the same direction. Frustrated, she stepped to the left and again to the right, but he thwarted her every move. Stubbornly, she refused to look up.

"Draco. I need to take her back now." She said as calmly as possible.

"No reason why we both can't take her back. I have a diplomatic warrant as a member of the ministry, so don't even try pulling your authority." He said quietly. He reached over and took Mary in his own arms, and bounced her once.

"So girlie. Where do _you_ belong?" he asked. Hermione picked up her clipboard, still avoiding his gaze, and started walking.

"My name isn't girlie. 's Mary." She said folding her arms with a fastidious expression on her face. "and I want my hat back."

"Really? Now who took your hat?" he said walking a step in front of Hermione, walking into a wing where the hallways were a bright yellow, with pictures of clowns and other circus paraphernalia on the walls. As they passed, a rather rotund looking pink elephant in a tutu gave Mary a welcoming trumpet and she giggled.

"was Bertie. He took my elephant nose hat. Please Dr. 'mione. Make him give it back…" she said with round eyes that Hermione often found hard to resist.

"I have a better idea." Draco said with an odd cheer in his voice. "I know two blokes, rather funny chaps. I'll bet they'll bring hats for everyone in here if I ask. Is that a good idea you think?" He said bouncing her again.

Mary clapped her hands in glee. "Oh yes yes!"

She gave a quick glance at Hermione's face.

"I mean, Thank You for thinking about me Mr. Dr.'mione's Husband." She said in a singsong voice, indicating that this polite courtesy had been drilled into her. They reached her room, and Draco let her down and she rushed to tell her roommate about the toys that were arriving soon.

"Huh. Fancy that." Draco said shrugging noncommittally. He turned and realized he was speaking to air, as Hermione's back turned the corner.

She slammed her clipboard onto the receptionist's desk, and picked up the quill to sign herself out. She sighed. In the back of her head, she knew she was being a little bit unfair. He couldn't remember what he'd done. First trying to hurt her. Then kissing her. But still, he was so…so…nonchalant. It was grating.

"Did you meet your friend?" asked the receptionist.

"What?" she asked startled out of her reverie.

"Mr.Malfoy. He looked keep upon you." The dark haired girl said with a giggle. Parvati picked her head up from the back of the area.

"Pay her no mind 'Mione. Bloke could hardly keep his eyes of my knockers, much less concentrate on being a functioning human being."

The receptionist and Hermione exchanged a look. It was common knowledge that Parvati spent a good portion of her paycheck at Mme. Venus's Love Potionary.

"Anyway, I expect that both of you will refrain from interfering in our _patients_ lives, and continue your work." She said tartly, taking off her lab coat and throwing it on a coat hanger that grabbed it with its wooden arms out of the air. She picked up her bag, and apparated back home.

"Hoity toity aren't we?" sniffed the receptionist.

"Oh leave her alone love. She's gone through enough without our cackle. Now tell me. Was he _really _eyeing her?" Parvati whispered.

"Oh blimy, was he…"

"So are we clear?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes scanning the four faces in front of him.

"Yes, but is this right? Shouldn't Hermione know?" Neville asked quietly.

"Yeah, and Draco." Added Fred.

"I think." Snape interrupted, "That our Minister is suggesting that our plan will _not_ work unless the two of our reconnaissance people are in the dark as to our plans.

"I hope this works. Or we're going 'have a _very _angry Hermione and Draco on our hands. At least Hermione angry is somewhat attractive and sexy in an odd way. But Draco…" George broke in.

"..But Draco could rip us apart." Finished Neville.

"Correct. Now then, are we agreed after knowing the risks this could entail?" Dumledore asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I guess."

"Agreed, Minister."

"Right."

AN- As usual. Tell me what you think. Any improvements?

_Teaser- Hermione spills to her mate….draco is mortified…and what **is**__Fred trying to do?_


	17. Gold Glitter and Floozies

_Sorry for being so late with this. I was busy. Enough said._

_Here's the next chapter!_

"Mione. You're getting boring. Please get a life." Ginny said in a matter of fact voice. Hermione continued to spin her fork in her lettuce.

"I'm having Lupin's child."

Hermione's eyes were still glazed over.

"And I think Harry wants to quit the team and become a Sherpa in the Himalayas." Ginny paused for a moment. Then slammed her own fork on Hermione's hand. "OK. That is _it._ What is so wonky about you?"

Hermione looked up startled and stopped herself from blushing in embarrassment. Bad enough her life was so disorderly, she didn't need a soon to be bride on her case as well.

"Nothing."

"oh, yes. Hermione. Smartest witch or not, I am not _stupid_." Ginny moaned.

"Sorry." She answered quickly, picking up the vinaigrette bottle to pour a little bit on her salad.

"For example…" Ginny intoned, "You are currently drowning your salad in dressing. For the fifth time in twenty minutes."

Hermione stoically placed the bottle back and grimaced as she ate a bite of overdressed tomato.

"Hermione." Ginny beckoned a little more gently. "We're mates, aren't we?"

Hermione bit her lip and didn't answer. Truth be told, lately she hadn't felt like she had any _real_ friends. They were all rather transparent and superficial to her lately and she hated herself for it. The only person she couldn't figure out immediately was Dumbledore…and well Draco. _Malfoy. No….malfoy was more impersonal_. She sighed out loud.

"Its just the case Ginny. And everything."

"Gee."

"What?"

"Didn't think it was possible for you to get anymore vague. Apparently I was wrong."

Hermione let out a strangled sound.

"Sorry. That was bitchy of me. Now tell me. What's up."

Hermione stabbed another bit of cucumber and contemplated it translucent center.

"Let's see. Quietness. Inability to eat like a normal bloke. Bags under eyes. So, I must conclude. You're in love."

Hermione audibly choked on the cucumber and had to reach for her glass of water.

"_WHAT!"_

" I knew it. Who is he?"

"Ginny, I've told you many times, I don't have-"

"-Time for that nonsense I know. But really 'Mione, you're an old softie underneath that entire ice queen demeanor. So spill it. I'll buy us desert. Cheesecake. You're favorite."

"Well."Hermione said in a clipped tone. I'm afraid I'll have to be disappointed. There isn't anyone. At all. _At- all."_

"Well, I'll buy you dessert anyway. And I'll get this out of you if it kills me."

"Oh. Ginny. Don't make me commit homicide, not when its my line of work." Hermione quipped with a withering look. Her hands trembled a little as she pulled on her robes, and grabbed her shoulder bag.

"Oh….Mione, let's walk." Ginny said in a quieter tone. They both paid their half of the bill and strode out of the restaurant. They proceeded to walk down the winding path of a surprisingly quiet Diagon Alley.

"So tell me. What's bothering you."

Hermione glanced over at her friend, and to her shame, hesitated. She wasn't comfortable revealing intimate details as it was. And Ginny was fairly flighty. She wasn't sure if her mouth could stay sealed.

"Ginny, I swear if I find out you've told anyone, I will…I'll.."

"Do something violent. I know. And I believe it, so don't worry." She answered rubbing a hand comfortingly over her shoulder.

"Good. As long as we…understand that. Its just that…I got a kiss."

"'_Mione! _Then why are you so damn sad about it? Its hardly all that…well cataclysmic."

"Ginny." Her tone made Ginny look at her concernedly. "It was my first."

She was met by complete silence.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not! I'm just…oh, 'Mione has it really been that bad for you? Your'e twenty eight…surely… I mean you were at least fourteen when you and Viktor…"

"Did nothing." Hermione's voice hardened. She was not happy that she had been used. Even all these years later, he was one of the many people she would never forgive.

"_herm ninny! You must understand! I was having no choice!"_

"_Viktor! If I find that you have been anywhere near me, I will use the crutacious curse on you , make no bones about it." Hermione's hand shook as she held the wand in front of her, cradling Neville's head in her lap. Inside the chambers, she could hear Harry screaming. Sobs racked her body as she whispered the beginning words of the curse._

"_Do not do this!" and his voice was calm as he backed towards the door of the hall. He turned and broke for a run. Hermione had come upon him in the potions room, shoving flask after flask of various locked up ingredients into his bag. For the Dark Lord. The same way he had been going through her letters in her room. The same way he had betrayed her. _

"oh." Ginyn said quietly. "Well this is bit of a pickle."

":Its even worse than you think. He was drugged when he did it. I doubt he remembers." Hermione sighed.

They were on a street of shops, and they strolled a little bit more slowly, glancing in through the windows as they passed.

"Oh. My. Only you. This would only happen to you" Ginny shook her head. "Still…I guess that sort of good. You're…_ahem_…inexperienced, and he won't remember it, in a way it sort of works out."

"Except…well, it wasn't how I wanted it to be." Hermione said quietly.

"Oh what? You wanted Fireworks? With me and Harry, it was a broom closet, hardly any light, and Peeves found us."

"But it was nice?"

Ginny paused with a little smile. "Yes. It was nice. Hermione I'm sure yours was as well. You just can't see it now. Let it be. So. He was drugged? What was he, a patient? Who was-?"

Hermione blanched, and Ginny saw her cheeks turn a light pink. "I've got to go." Hermione said in a small voice, and rushed off towards the Hospital down the corner. Puzzled, Ginny turned toward the window where Hermione had suddenly stopped, the Book Shop. "-He."

She finished the question with a little bit of satisfaction. Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of the window, his head bowed down over a book that he was holding up to his eyes. His almost-white hair brushed the pages, and large finger traced the words. Ginny took a breath and opened the door.

_The appearance of cadavers as a magical tool has been undocumented, though not unheard of in the past. It is thought that many of the voodoo lords of the West Indies, were in fact Witches and Wizards attempting a sort of mind control over unwitting muggles with their displays of cadavers…_

Draco's mouth moved along with the words as he ran his finger along the old letters. He rubbed his index over his thumb, where a dot of a scar was all that indicated that he had taken another dosage that morning. Something inside of him however, was still in turmoil. He could feel his mind wandering of violently when he wasn't concentrating, and he shuddered slightly as he recalled vaguely his hands wrapped around Hermione's slender throat. The wild carnivorous feeling as he felt her hand beating against his in a pitiful defense. He closed his eyes and counted his breathing again as he felt the familiar wild side creeping up in his chest-

"So. You're not just a moron, but a well read moron." Said a voice coldly, somewhere near his waist. He turned around, then looked down at the figure of Ginny Weasly, hands on her hips, her gold lame robes a contrast to her (as usual) overdone face. She was practically snarling. Draco could only stare at the gold glitter the girl had artfully smeared on her eyes. He sighed, as he wondered why women could not simply dress for properness rather than a statement. He had had many a girl on his arm, especially since the war had ended. Like Ginny, they were overdressed, and usually simpering to lead him into bed. For the gifts of course. Not that he minded, he was one of the few men who could somewhat crassly about the women he had had at the office without lying…but when it came to what he enjoyed looking at… it was cleanliness and pretty.

"Why can't you ever look as though your light wasn't out of your closet in the morning?" he asked conversationally. "have a little more class?" _Like her?_

"You. Absolute. Git." She snarled. She grabbed the book out of his surprised hands, and threw on to a shelf. The owner gave her a horrified look.

"What? Surely insulting the Fashion Queen of The Alley hasn't hurt your ego all that much?" he said laughing, and picking up another book.

"If you _ever_ hurt her like that again. I will personally seal your…your…poisonous lips with wax."

"my poisonous…honestly Ginny,What _are _ you talking about?" he said searching his mind wildly. He hadn't gone out with a woman since three weeks ago…

"Listen." Ginny walked forward, until his tall frame was backed against the store window. "She may not be like those other floozies you enjoy tossing around in your mattress" He gave an indignant sound in the back of his throat. "But Hermione isn't. She's not some slut you can use and forget."

"_Hermione? _Have you gone mad? I haven't slept with Hermione!"

"Yeah, well you kissed her. And that's bad enough, considering it was her first and all. So…you either apologize to her, or I'll be sending your spare parts to Madrid, if you get my gist." She flounced out of the shop, winking at the shop owner.

Draco slid down to the floor.

"God. No wonder she's been treating me more like the plague than usual. She must hate me." He sighed.

_It doesn't matter. You can have what you want. And she's what you want. Isn't she? The stars are always right. They do not lie. Take her as you please…_

"No!" he whispered. He pulled out another small dosage of the drug, and jabbed it into the same finger. A feeling of warm bliss spread over him and he closed his eyes. "Merde. What am I going to do."

AN- ok. So that chapter, granted, was kind of pointless. Tell me what you think. Tell me what you think will happen, I enjoy reading those and comparing to what I have planned out. .

I promise the next chapter will be more exciting, this was just filler I wrote in about two hours of thought, and more of a precursor to explain their behavior I the next chapter.


	18. Armor and Dementors

_Grr. I really don't like my last chapter, and am seriously contemplating getting rid of it. What do you all think?_

_This chapter is more of a return to the original plotline…you know…the reason you're all reading this for? (I'm sure its not for the romance….) I'm going to try my hand at a little more of 'action writing' and actually writing something visual in the next chapter as well. Wish me luck…._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Parvati, for the last time. No more breaks. Mr. Petrollan in 345 never got his diaja root treatment yesterday when you went on your two hour 'lunch break' as you call it." Hermione spat out without a surfeit of venom.

She sighed as Parvati rolled her eyes dramatically and turned around to her perch behind the counter, nearly knocking over the carefully arranged parchment the intern on duty had been painstakingly organizing for the last hour. The frazzled look in his eyes was familiar as he gave Parvati a wild stare of incredulity. Hermione herself had gone through some tough hours as an intern, fresh from the war and her years at the Wizarding Institute of Higher Medical Learning.

"_But I could have sworn I had McShriver's file right…"_

"_I am sorry to inform you **Miss. **Granger, that that is simply not good enough. These patients have names. They have lives. And they're in you hands. If you cannot even keep a file straight, then you must reevaluate your priorities." The formidable Wizarding Doctor Archimedes Rex, Order of Hippocrates, High Physician, had intoned. "Now. I will request that you walk into Mr. Aloysius McShriver's room right now. Come now, I know you can walk; you can certainly breath which is a task for some people in your generation. Now march in there. And inform of exactly why you will not be able to give him a diagnosis." _

_Hermione had blanched, and Dr. Rex had tapped her on the shoulder with his walking stick shaped like Mercury's staff with its entwined snakes. She nervously stepped down the hall…_

Hermione shook her head, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She locked the doors behind her for the night, the adult part of the wing now secure. As she turned to head down the hall towards the children's wing, she frowned at the sight of a figure huddled on the floor near the entrance.

"Mary?"

Receiving no answer, she pocketed her wand, and walked towards the figure of the little girl, shivering in her pink fleece nightgown, despite the lack of cold. Her eyes were glazed over. Suddenly her body went rigid.

"_The Serpent's son has turned to the moon. The Lioness is in the pit, stalked by the Dark Lord's servant."_

"Damn it." Hermione muttered. A glance outside the ceiling sun window confirmed her suspicions; a full moon. Mary had divination blood that was incredibly strong. But like all those who were born with the ability, hers rarely manifested itself, usually on strong nights for magic. She bent down to hold her torso; she shook her shoulders but received no flicker of recognition from the little girl.

"_Beware oh Lioness. You stalk the prey that is not yours. The One Who Lived cannot stop this, only the Serpent with the Spirit of the Forest. He holds all that may make this well." _

Suddenly her body went lax, and she flickered her eyelids.

"'Mione? Did I start seeing again?"

"Yes dear. I'm sorry. Do you want something to drink?" she asked trying to sooth the worried look in the girl's eyes.

Suddenly, Mary shot straight up, her eyes wild as she seemed to remember something.

"'mione I don't want to go back to my room. The evil thing is there."

Hermione stared in bewilderment

"What- Evil thing?"

"it…it came in, and it touched my face, and I saw…I saw it had a big knife. Like as big as my arm…"

"..a sword?"

"yes…and it wanted to hurt me, but I wouldn't let it, and when I sent my…future thought? It wanted me to think about…Uncle Harold…but I yelled loud, and pushed the thoughts back…and it fell down, and more of them came into my room, and it got cold. I ran away… I came to look for you…but my future seeing came."

Hermione pulled out her wand and pulled Mary close to her.

"Listen Mary. I want you to run to the Nurse's Station and tell the Nurse there that Dr. Hermione has issued a Dark Code. She'll know what to do. You've been very brave, so do this for me."

Mary nodded quickly as pattered down the hall.

Hermione entered the children's ward and walked over to a window. Quickly opening the pane, she sent out a series of green sparks that formed a lightening bolt over the hospital.

"Alohomora Infinitus Totalus" she muttered. In chorus the entire hallway's doors all locked, the children never even waking up. She then locked the hall doors behind her, she bent into a defensive stance and waited.

The dementors had to be somewhere.

Draco frowned as the buzz of commotion in the hallway eventually broke his reverie. He put down the bag of glass eyeballs.

"What's all this?" he shouted over the crowd of wizards and witched rushing to and fro. Neville sighed, and pulled off the parchment message that was stuck to Draco's door. "Well don't get nattered. You know I never read these damn things." He muttered chucking the roll into the bin.

"It's the hospital. A Dark Code was called in a few moments ago. A task force is mobilizing."

Draco felt his face go rigid. "Do you know what kind of assassin?"

"Best as I can tell, we don't know…most likely some dementors. One attacked a patient, and apparently has been isolated specifically in a corridor of a ward. We're getting ready to get a task force. Can I count you in?"

"Of course." He snapped.

He pulled his head back into his office, and immediately went toward the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Neville curtly nodded to himself and hurried down the corridor to get ready himself.

Pulling open the door, Draco shrugged off his cloak and suit coat. Tugging at his tie, he loosened his collar and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He clipped on a black chest plate with the Ministry seal emblazoned in the center. He also pulled on two sleeves of chain mail, and clipped on two matching gauntlets. He flexed his fingers. He hadn't had to wear this armor for at least a year. Sighing, he pulled on his helmet, and flipped up the visor. Strapping a dagger to his side, he pocketed his wand, and locked the office door behind him. Various other members of the ministry all armored as he was were running down the halls. He joined them, giving a nod to Neville who was wearing the red armor of a commander.

As the group apparated to appear in front of the ministrt, almost prophetically, a peal of thunder broke in the sky, and a heavy downpour began. Grimly, Draco flipped down his visor. The large symbol of Dumbledore's Army was flickering over the hospital, the green lightening bolt wavering a little in the storm's wind.

It appeared the battle had started earlier than he had anticipated.

_AN. well. What do you think? Make you want to read the next chapter? _


	19. AUTHOR'S NOTE

_A.N_

_-Just so you know, I'm not dead. But, I** am** moving into college, so thus the reason for the long delay. Once I'm situated, I'll update with another chapter._

_Also, after reading the sixth book, you all probably realize there are some 'character' issues, involving deaths of those I still have in the story, as well as obvious romances that I don't have in the story. (Plus, JK **totally** had the same idea as me with the dead bodies that are reanimated, how cool was that!) Just so you know, I plan on keeping my original plotline; I'm acknowledging that there will be even bigger discrepancies now than ever. I just hope people still enjoy this. Thanks!_

_-doriansportrait_


	20. Ambrosia and Memories

_sigh. Well, here's the next chapter…._

Panting with the exertion, Draco bodily jumped from the window sill he was on to another. Peering in through the window, he recognized the painting on the wall of the pink elephant, huddling with her tutu over her face. He was by the children's ward.

There was a Dark Code in progress, the window would not open from the outside, even with his wand. He tapped quietly. Then harder.

Hermione jumped as she heard the first raps on the glass, her wand raised even higher. Glancing at the bay window, she gave a sigh of relief as she saw a member or the Ministry Guard balanced precariously. She quietly tiptoed towards the window. Out of the corner of the eye she thought she saw a dark figure pass by. Whirling around, she stifled a scream as a dementor flitted around the corner of the hall away from her.

Opening the window with a small creak, the guard member stuck his head in, and landed on his feet. He flipped up his visor.

"You?" she whispered, a little bit of her temper seeping though. She pushed it back with and effort. Now was no the time for a discussion of kisses, disappearances, or centaurs.

"Yes. They're out side waiting for the signal. I'm taking care of this floor. The other guards are watching the rest. I told them I knew the layout from my last visit." He whispered back, the bass of his voice vibrating through her anyway. "How many do you think are here?"

"I think at least two, that's how many Mary saw. But I'm sure there should be four. Dementors group that way."

"Right. And they've been reported on all the floors…"

"And there are at least 35 in this building alone"

They both paused in thought, and looked at each other, lost in thought. With a mental shake, Hermione gripped his gauntleted arm. "The children are locked in their rooms, and I assume asleep. Please, they need to be gone as soon as possible. These children have been through enough, and at least two have had bad experienced already with dementors."

Draco gave her a grave look, and nodded curtly. "Alright then. Plan. They're separated, so let's take one of the DA postions, back to back. We'll circle down the halls. Wands out, your'e patronus is a beaver right?"

"Otter."

"oh. Well, mines a stallion, so they probably will go for different approaches."

Nodding in agreement, Hermione shed her labcoat, trying to bring in her clothing so it wouldn't restrict her. Draco flipped his visor down again, and he guiltily wished he had something to protect Hermione as well. Slowly, they walked down the hallways, wands raised in air, and circling.

"There. To my right." She whispered.

"Now."

"Expecto Patronus!" they both shouted simultaneously. Immediately, a large silvery steed came charging through his wand. It raced towards the dementor, which raised his nonexistent arm to it's face to shield itself. With an inhuman shriek, it jetted through the air, and out the open window. Hermione's otter plodded after it, snapping it's jaws.

"That's one down."

Before he could even finish his thought, they felt an icy wave wash over them.

"_No. No! No more killing!"he was shouting, in the woods. Lucious continued to drag him by the collar, through the woods. With a grunt, he threw him down the side of the hill, and he felt his battered body roll and collide with dirt and rock until he came to a rest. He was in a pit of some sort. And all around him was darkness. Nothing but…darkness…he gave a strangled cry of despair…he could hear the battle, and he was lying here…the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn't do anything…_

_She couldn't hold in the pain anymore. She started to weep, the tears streaming down her face, her body racked with sobs, Neville's head still continuing to bleed even after she had bound it, and conducted the only healing spells she knew. She had scared off Viktor, but she was all alone. She could hear Harry screaming in pain, and then "AVADA-nooOO!" _

_She buried her face in Neville's chest, not wanting to hear the pain anymore. And then the door opened again, she felt her body convulse with fear, watching as the serpent known as Naginig slithered in, her body parylized with fear, averting her eyes in time to avoid parylization. But she still couldn't move…she was so tired…she just couldn't move…and Neville would die._

_And then the cackling figure of Wormtongue staggered in. "My dear. What a lovely feast my master has given me." He had stammered, licking his lips. "For both me and Nagini. Come now pretty, let's see what we can do to have fun…" She shook her head…no…_

"Ex-…ex-….EXPECTO PATRONUS!" Hermione shrieked, pointing her wand at the two dementors slowly advancing on them. At her back, she could feel Draco trembling through the nightmare that only he could see.

"Thank. Thank You." He muttered. "Well. There should only be one left."

The communication link in his helmet suddenly buzzed to life, the voice of Neville magically sounding as though he was right next to him. "Malfoy. How many have been taken down on your floor?"

"Three." He whispered back.

"The status is going well for us. Most of us are finished, or nearly. They're fairly weak. They're reportedly heading back to Azkaban island. Someone had given them incentive to leave their posts. Is Hermione with you."

"Yes. Helping me."

"Good. She has a clear head on her shoulders. Help needed?"

"No. We have this covered. I think she'll want to see the kids after."

"Alright. But tell her not too long. We'll need to interview her and the reporting child for records after ward."

"Ok. Over."

"Over."

The link beeped and turned off. Hermione was trying to control her body. She felt cold from the sweat that had enveloped her body when the dementor had attacked her.

"then let's take out the last Bastard then shall we?" he intoned. His voice vibrated all along her back, and oddly she felt comforted by that. It was so strong, and so….safe.

Hermione gripped Mary's hand, as she told the investigating officer exactly what had happened. She wasn't weepy at all Hermione noticed, but she knew that Mary's defense mechanism was to put on a stubborn appearance. Ever since her Uncle's abuse…

"Excuse me officer. I know that this is important, but she's been through quite a night. Could we possibly do this later?"

"That's alright love. Got all that we need from her anyway. She's a brave lass." He said kindly, ruffling her hair. He walked off, to join the other officers.

"Mary. Do you think you will be ok, back in your room?"

"Yes, Dr.Granger. The meanie things are gone."

She gave her a tight hug, such a brave little girl, and was appalled to feel more tears dripping down her face and onto Mary's head.

"Dr. Granger? Are you 'k? Please, don't be sad."

"Yes. Please don't be sad. Mary, is it ok, if Dr. Granger and I talk?" The voice intoned from behind her. Draco was standing, one hand on his hip, the other holding his helmet. His hair was a nightmarish nest of sweat and steely blonde hair.

"Yes, Dr.Granger's husband."

"Mary, he's not my husband."

Mary gave her a blank look, and then giggled. She skipped down the hall and went to her room.

Neville walked up to join them, looking portly in the guard armor. "Hermione, are you ok?"

"Yeah. I think." She said shakily. She hadn't had a run-in with dementors since she had fought the final battle.

"Well, then I'm going to ask you two to head down to the local café. Here," He handed them some galleons. "Have as much chocolate as you need. On the ministry. If you need something stronger, I personally wouldn't object. I have a feeling a lot of bad memories are going to be drowned out tonight."

Hermione looked at him blankly. "Oh. Is that Parvati Patil?" Neville said, his interest suddenly piqued, he walked away. Draco gave a chuckle.

"Those two. Suppose they know what's in front of them?" he asked out loud.

"Not Parvati, that's for sure. She'll have to stop visiting Madame Venus'."

"No. I thought that was a rumor."he said, his voice a feminine gasp of gossip.

Hermione's haunted stare however made him pause.

"I say. Rosmerta's Café is probably filled. I know a place. Want to take chocolate in a quieter place?"

Hermione nodded her head and unsteadily tried to get up. Reaching forward, he gripped her hand, and lifted her up easily. She wobbled. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lie down…and not get up. She felt so weak. She only wanted a shoulder. God, why was she so weak willed?

She stirred the plastic stirrer in the mug, no longer feeling like hot chocolate. The shivering was gone, the memory unfortunately was still in her mind. Repeating over and over again.

"Hermione. I need to tell you something."

She held her breath. Why was there a feeling of apprehension and something else…

" You deserve the truth. All of it."

The feeling disappeared from her stomach, replaced by the dull ache of the memory. She didn't know what she had been expecting, considering the truth was what she had wanted to hear for a while now.

"I…I owe you an apology. I should never have kissed you."

"oh. Well you obviously didn't know-"

He held up a hand to cut her off. "You have no idea where my mind was. And, frankly, you …never deserved such treatment. And these past few weeks, I've been…in the forest."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "With the other centaurs. I've been letting the…berserk run free. But…I needed to control it. So I checked myself in. I didn't want you to find out the way you did."

She suddenly felt even more deflated. He had…a reason. A stupid one…but a reason. He lifted up his mug of firewhisky and took a liberal sip. The barmaid came by, with a tray.

"Anything thing else you'll be needed Drac?"

"Yeah. Kaz, get us some Cedar Ambrosia? I'm farily sure this occasion warrants it." He said with a mocking look at Hermione. She felt herself blushing, as the barmaid gave her a wink.

"Draco, Ambrosia is farily expensive, you don't need to…"

"Hermione, with all that you know about me, surely you remember that I'm a fairly wealthy bastard." He said. That smirk, the one that she was so used to in school, the one he had greeted her with at her front door a month ago, was firmly attached to his face. Kaz placed a bottle and two flutes on there table. She gave Hermione a smile and walked off.

"Now, Hermione darling. You do not drink. However, from experience, I must tell you that you become…an fine woman when under the influence."

He handed her the flute of dark amber liquid. The scent of the drink wasn't the usual alcohol, but the smell of roses. It was a fairy specialty, and mixed in the woods, along with typical debauchery of the fairies. She had never had any before, only at the graduation party the Gryffindors had had in their common room.

Blushing, she didn't know what wickedness overtook her. She could feel a small smile erupting on her face, and she took a little sip. The heady taste filled her with warmth.

"Now then Granger. Where were we?" Draco said after downing his own flute.

A.N- there. Tell me what you think. I'm exhausted, that was the worst chapter to get through, and I don't think I really explained myself well. The next chapter…well they're both essentially getting wasted….Draco and Hermione drunk off their rockers? Well now, that should be interesting….


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